The Drow's Daughter
by inkedvigilante
Summary: The Age of Heroes is over, the Statue of Artix stands at a museum of the past. Now the Dwarfhold Mountains appointed Eastern Lords for land expansion and rule over humankind. Drows rule. Kingdoms lost. Drow Lords now have power over dwarf, man and beast. War continues and one rebel stands in the way. The daughter of a Drow. (Original Characters set in Altered AQW) Discontinued.
1. Chapter 1: Camel and Cactus Herding

**Chapter 1: Camel and Cactus Herding**

Camels with razor sharp talons unsheathed from its furry paws are the most unusual creatures I have ever seen. Wait. Sand swimming sharks are the most dangerous fish alive in the desert. I plan to find one once I am allowed to explore the ports. After this day I will be allowed to do whatever I please...well _almost_ do whatever I please.

I sit leaning back against the chilly sand-coloured wall of a building. The shade is one of the things you need in a desert, besides water. I sit there with bare feet, near my rugged boots, watching passer bys pace the streets of the market. People go on about their business, and along with them is an assorted array of friendly humanoid beasts, from dwarves and koopa turtles, to walking river fish and hooded goblins pulling their carts of commodities. I spot a horc in the crowd wearing a bard's feathered hat pulling a cart that sells exquisite music instruments. It is rare to find a friendly horc; they are usually territorial at their fort, isolated from human villages.

My feet are beginning to heat up again so I wash them off at the nearest puddle. The early morning is very relaxing and it takes me a while to get up and put on my boots. I leave the sanctuary of the shade and enter the bustling black market.

The sun burns and the crowded path make air stuffier by the minute. I squeeze out of a mob gathered around a vendor who was wearing black robes. He must be the man who travels north to Greengaurd's capital, Battleon, where he sells rare merchandise.

When I was born –at a place now forbidden, says my mother- a war was going on at the eastern lands. I was just beginning my baby steps at a village near Swordhaven when my mother and I immediately immigrated to Willowcreek at Greengaurd. Apparently, I was too young to understand anything about the war and my mother placed me in the dark. But that did not stop me from eavesdropping on conversations. I learned a few things about the ongoing war as I grew older and every gossip is still in my memory.

The Cold War is what they called it, still happening today for fifteen years, involving eastern lords. The name I constantly heard was Lord Sagittarius's, a man hungry for land and power, ruling the eastern mountains with an iron fist. He is widely supported by the humans and elves residing there and he still lives to sit on the corrupted throne. Sagittarius is a man without fear of traitors and with him are four other eastern lords. The DwarfholdMountains are currently conquered by these lords and they extremely guard the place like it stored all the riches of the world. A decade ago the good king of Swordhaven died, and then the eastern lords were appointed. The lords took advantage of this death and took over the kingdom. There were no heroes to help. You'll find their statues maintained at Battleon's Grand Museum of Lore.

When I was four we travelled to Battleon, the capital of Greengaurd near Willowcreek. My mother was preparing me for more lessons in spell casting one morning, and she and I stopped near the GrandMuseum built by the square plaza. I sneaked into the museum while my mother was busy in a Magic Shoppe. At the front was a polished golden statue of Artix, the Great Paladin. Not only was his statue there, but surrounding it were statues of the Lady Safiria, Lord Cysero, Lady Beleen and so much more sculptures of heroes who lived five decades ago. But what clearly stayed in my mind were the honoured men and women with pointy ears, they were elfin heroes of the past.

I believe in dragons, faeries, vampires, werewolves, river folk, ninjas, pirates, robots and skeleton men, among them other beasts but elves? My mother would tell me elfish stories for bedtime until I turned three when I started questioning her, the stories stopped. Elves do not exist anymore. Their kind has died off, she said. My box of questions reopened after I found the elfin heroes at the GrandMuseum.

When we travel to places, I see many demons including cacti with jaws, but no elf as if I were under a spell, cursed not to see a single one. My mother would sing me a lullaby to sleep every night when I wonder about elves and faeries. Years later, I made her stop singing me to sleep because I realized they were spells. What kind of a mother would constantly curse her child to hide elves? That question haunted me, until training lessons occupied my mind. My brain snaps back to the present.

A large tusked-camel crosses my path and I avoid it, I am too busy playing with one of my arrows. It ignores me and grunts away believing that its master is somewhere in the crowd.

Trespassing wild beasts, excluding those who come to trade, inside the gates do not bother people. The wild uncivilized creatures are pests and humans ignore them or shoo them away. When it comes to being in a guarded realm the chances of getting attacked by unrefined intruders are rare, like getting hit by a lightning. When you venture out of the walls of a city you are in danger in their territory. For the most part, if you are seeking a bite out of the untamed you simply go up to them and ask for it.

It is a usual day of training in the desert oasis, where palm trees provide cool shadows, and traders huddle underneath the shade of fabric. I walk out from underneath a large leafed palm tree and stop at a distance away from the main stone gates where my company awaits.

The sun is beginning to bother me. Although the humid is painful, you survive the heat since there are puddles of water all over the city - which conveniently heats up every evening, then cools during daylight. There is also the breeze from time to time.

I reach the gate where two people stand waiting. I carry bow and arrow in hand ready to practice with my step father, the loving Gregory Sabor. His goatee twitched with a charming smile and he opens his arms for a hug. No wonder mother fell for this guy. I hold out my bow and arrow to show him that my hands are full but he hugs me anyways.

"This noon," he says above my head, as you can see I'm trapped in a bear hug pressed to his authentic rogue blouse. "You'll be finished with your training as a ranger. It is a big accomplishment. You excited?"

"I thought I was already finished." I hug him back with the bulk of my weapons.

When I was really young my mother taught me spell casting, she had not shown me her ancient spells yet, but I will continue to nag her about it someday. Now I know enough sorcery to defend myself and I don't mean to boast but I am pretty good at it. She even taught me healing spells which I find boring. I forget to heal myself most of the time. Magic has never been my "forte" and I only use them when I feel trapped during combat.

I turned nine and mother introduced me to a man named Raul, a merchant of the seas, who I thought was a pirate. I was old enough to use daggers and he even taught me how to be cunning with the sword, whip and knives.

I prefer my former teacher, Mr. Sabor over here. He's a skilled rogue with double swords behind his back and a flintlock that carries accurate bullets. He's also good with hand to hand and bow and string. He taught me archery and now this class is almost over. We have agreed to extend my skills with swords and guns when we travel to Greengaurd tomorrow. I am all ready good with a sword but he still thinks I'm too impulsive. He says that mastering many skills takes years and he's right. Though I pride over my skills, I'm barely amazing with any spell or weapon. I cannot wait for this extended training, because I want to master the sword.

He releases me so I can see Wiolina beside him, my mother. Through all these years I have suspected her of deception. She always hid something from me, from news of the Cold War going on at the east, to the truth about elves and to the truth about my father.

She is wearing a large hood, loose enough to provide her soft red curls shelter from the heat, an intricate jewelled belt shined along her hip holding together a beautiful long-sleeve dress.

Mother wears dresses all the time, the finest ones were especially sewn for her. Very rarely will you find a dress in her wardrobe without intricate patterns and gold linings. I somehow got purple eyes from my absent father and my red hair from her, which I added my own flair of zebra stripes - she called me a peacock after that.

"Go on now darling," says mother, so graceful and composed. My relationship with my mother has always been a roller coaster and I wonder if she'll ever tell me anything about my real father. I turn away to focus.

My right arm strings the bow and I place my back on the cool stony gate wall. I spot a couple of camels and four grim cacti on the far left. The camels are busy trying to find grass on the sand. Or are they eating the sand?

A cactus sees me running to the nearest sand dune. Roll, string, let go. Hit. The cactus's three prickly roots come off the sand and its friends turn to follow. I quickly shoot it with another arrow and then another and another, killing it, mid stride. Its friends cantering closer, my back hits the gate wall. Rule number one: don't let the prey make you their victim. I graze the wall to avoid a prickly charge. My parents must have seen that.

Running to another direction, away from the oblivious camels I load my bow again, this time I'm going for speed and height.

The best rangers can shoot more than a dozen of arrows per minute, if you're that good. My record is nine precise arrow shots a minute. I'm too slow to be the best, but I'm descent enough to survive. String, let go, hit. String let go, hit. Yes, another cactus down. The prickly body shrieks and lands a foot away from me. At close range, I shoot its head to terminate the functioning brain. Close. One more creepy plant to go. I pull myself together, a little queasy but I've grown used to killing enemy beasts.

The third cactus leaps at me. Stumbling back, I run up to a sand dune hill to get a better shot at the third cactus. Its three-legged roots climb up. Clumsy, but it is approaching fast.

I swear there were four cactuses earlier. I hear a shriek and a gurgle from behind and I roll aside as the fourth cactus stamps a thorny root on the sand where I was. I swing my bow at it to block the open jaws. Few pricks scrape my arm, I can live with that.

The plant's jaws snaps at the tip of my bow, showing me its thorns which I believe are thicker than my finger. I swing my bow to break it away from the beast. Some of its three inch teeth fall off from the sudden swing. Recovering fast, it bites close to my left, I struggle backwards avoiding it. The other cactus behind me stomps to my right, trying to prick my side using its thorny roots. I am trapped by these two; if I reach for an arrow on my back, the fourth would be close enough to bite it. I am not allowed to use magic or force field spells for this challenge, only bow and arrow and whatever is around the belt, says Greg.

I grasp my belt for a dagger and swung my bow at the fourth again. It dodges but backs away enough for me to escape. I feel a brush of its pricks along my sleeve, not enough to pierce my other arm. Dagger on one hand I slide down the sand dune to escape the pair of beasts, only to encounter the camels. I spit out sand and slip the bow around me. I hold the dagger on one hand and I find the other pair.

These two knives were given by my step father. He always makes sure I was prepared for any close combat. I can feel the bow string pierce my shoulder as it hangs on. The fancy golden bow feels heavy and the bowstring is making a red line along my abdomen.

One camel was faster and it rears so near to me that I can feel the hot breath and the talon-like claws slicing the air above my head. Sweating, I cross the long-bladed daggers in front of my face to avoid plunging camel claws. It shrieks feeling the painful encounter of the two knives. The camel backs away, not ready to surrender but ready to bite me with its two tusks. It must have magically inherited those two teeth from an elephant or a sabre-toothed tiger. Another camel charges at my unguarded side and succeeded in pushing me to the sandy ground. I land underneath the first camel and quickly barrel-rolled over to attack its belly. It goes down groaning as the two knives leave its flesh.

The other camel's claws thump near the bloody belly of its friend. I scramble out of the way so hard that it made my head spin. It must be the sun's heat. Growling, the animal with no sense of rationality anymore bites forward encountering my dagger's blow. It stopped thinking straight after the sight of its friend's slaughter, I reckon.

The cacti are cautiously sliding off the sand dune where I left them. I sigh and sheathe my blades. I applaud them for trying to charge at me again, bumping against one another so much that it amuses me. Using my bow again I string a few arrows and quickly finished off the beasts from a distance. I leave the scene with just a bruise on the side and several cuts and pricks along my right arm. Yes, I can't stop glowing with pride and then my back ache interrupts the moment. I remember barrel-rolling with a bow and a quiver. That was stupid thing to do but I survived, I felt worse.

The sand is really inviting, I drop to my knees and I urge myself to face plant on the sand but I can see a blurry figure of my step father running to my direction.


	2. Chapter 2: Father Figures

**Chapter 2: Father Figures**

"It was a tiring practice but I managed to, for the first time...wrestle back pain," I say to no one in particular, as we entered the inn.

"Well, bless my knickers," says a plump lady blinking at her new customers who entered the door. Gregory waves at her and I quietly stood there smiling.

Tess Jones lights up from behind the bar counter. She is an old plump lady with dark skin and greying hair tied in a bun and is one of the most popular and respected innkeepers of the desert. She owns the Trader's Inn, a motel built along the road to the market. The Trader's Inn shelters many merchants that travel the barrens.

It has a bar on the first floor and a staircase which takes you to the next three floors up. The third floor at the very roof is where her family sleeps. Her husband barely shows up and they never had children. She cooks, waits and tends the bar usually by herself but recently there were rumours that she hired moglins. The village folks say that her moglin servants were seen in the kitchen and on the top floors cleaning rooms. Barely anyone sees moglins socializing around the inn.

This is one of the finest inns in the core of the oasis. We've stayed here before when I was little - my mother and I never stay in one place and I never had a permanent home growing up. Tess still wears a bonnet around her head. Nothing's changed, except the rumours about moglins.

"You must be tired, sweety!" Tess Jones waddles around the bar to close the Inn door. "Good Paladin Artix, your brown robes are smellin' away me customers. Go wash up 'till yer thistle fresh. I'll be right back to ye, just have ter serve a few more hungry men and I'll bring ya some new blankets."

"Dear Tess," says mother, coming out from behind me. She holds out a heavy blanket-covered basket to the inn keeper who gingerly receives it with stubby fingers. "These are for our stay tonight. We are so grateful."

"It ish no problem at all, sweet," replies the kind innkeeper giving my mother a toothy smile. "Anythin' fer me loved customers. Now go upstairs and get yer room. I'll be makin' roast chicken fer supper. Plenty of chickens out here…" The woman drifts away to the kitchen behind the bar table, carrying the food-filled basket

Mother glances at me with her unreadable saint-like expression. She is rather quiet after I finished practice. I roll my eyes at her.

"Arakelle Sabor." Gregory, blocks our mother-daughter-moment. "Try not using another weapon besides the one assigned. But overall, you've done a fine job. Like I said before, you earned it! Now ready for the wild river fish? I hear they are slippery, very challenging."

He walks me upstairs to the bathroom. I take my time climbing the stairs. Every step makes my legs heavier by the minute.

"I think I should give you guns and more swords. We'll be meeting our crew tomorrow at dawn. We have a lot to talk about during supper."

"What is wrong with...?" I let my hand linger on the knob of the bathroom door ready to go inside.

"Wiolina, is just distracted at -"

"Distracted at what?" I snap. "I finally finished my archery training and all of a sudden she's all weird and quiet, like I've done something she did not want me to do!"

I do not mean to slam the bathroom door at Greg but the door shuts angrily. I take off my clothes and start to wash myself, ignoring the cuts piercing my right arm. I am too lazy and too exhausted to cast a healing spell for them.

"Wiolina has a lot of things going on in her mind right now," says my step father behind the wooden door. "She's planning to go north. And from Greengaurd we will pick up a few things then ride to... maybe Mythsong? Would you like to go to Mythsong? The city is a tourist attraction at this time of year..."

"Mythsong, Greg? Really?" I mutter, but it was loud enough for him to hear and reply. He's the man who would do anything to rebuild the broken bridge between my mother and me even if it means using popsicles, paper and glue.

"We'll see what else your mother needs. Arakelle your mother is honestly making something big. Consider it as a really big birthday present. I am no doubt jealous."

"My birthday is a few months from now and I am not asking for a cake which needs rare ingredients found all over the world." I hear him chuckle. Even through a door I can tell he is smiling.

"Well, at least I told you something."

I remain in the tub for a moment and let the water soak my right arm. I feel the large bruise on the hip on my left side. I sigh. I want to know what else is going on in her mind. "Thanks for telling me." No answer. Greg must have left.

My step father loves my mother and they have a stronger relationship than the relationship I have with her. He was the first person she married after the disappearance of my real father. Greg is the closest father figure I have. My mother knew that Greg had a wife before and had two children. But that never stopped her from marrying him. His children are now grown up, one with the same age as me, and the other a year older and I have not seen them for seven years, ever since the wedding. Greg was prepared to accept my mother who will never get over her first love. At their wedding she hesitated to carry Greg's last name. There was an argument and an agreement. She is now to this day, Wiolina Sabor, but to her own self, she is still Wiolina dur Gahl. I have the last name too, but I consider myself a Sabor. I hold a grudge on the existing man I've never seen my entire life. This stranger knows about me but I do not know anything about him.

All I know about him is his last name. I wish to erase Arakelle dur Gahl. Sounds elfish if you ask me, maybe he's a vampire? I once consider him to be an elf but that thought is impossible. Mother tells me elves are no longer alive. My brain lingers in that thought for a moment. What if he is an elf? My mother does keep that concept away from me. I would be elfin with pointy ears. No pointy ears, therefore I'm no elf. They no longer exist.

Did my father leave my mother? My mother never talks about him. But I know she does. She would write letters and send photos of me to a strange address.

When I was twelve I would rummage through my mother's study opening drawers just to find the letters that she sends to my father or even anything that would give me a clue to who he is. I never found anything. Nothing. Maybe he's just a simple civilian around Greengaurd?

I grew older and became sneakier, I was watching my mother write a letter one night and this time she was holding a long wrapped package which looked like it carried a broom stick. Then she folded her letter into a bird, it started to fly singing and flapping. Mother hushed it with a whisper and covered it with a blue flame of invisibility. The letter disappeared flying to the address. My mother placed a charm around her entire pile of things on the table, all of which were from my real father. She caught me spying that same night.

Three years have gone by and I surrendered to my mother's lies. I gave up my search for the truth and moved on with training. She's never going to tell me who he really is, why should I continue to care anyways? I am turning seventeen in a few months and I move on.

I get out of the bathroom feeling clean and fresh wearing a dark green shirt with loose sleeves that reached my elbows. I place a rope belt around my hip tying a sheathed dagger to it, just in case. Dark pants, brown boots, ruffled blood red hair and white zebra extensions, I put on a blank face on the mirror. Gregory is always telling me to carry a dagger all the time. What else do you hear from a step father who owns a guild of rogues?

I leave the room to go downstairs, but something catches my attention. A pile of dust is organized on the floor near a dustpan. I hear a pattering from behind and quickly turn around to see a flash of yellow. It must have been a moglin. The creature's broomstick is left lying on the floor. I pick it up and finished the job for it.

"Here," I say to the empty corridor. "Fine." I leave the broom leaning on the wall and head downstairs, stopping just to hear the yellow creature's squeak of surprise and fidgety footsteps.


	3. Chapter 3: A Door opens ajar

**Chapter 3: A Door opens ajar**

Downstairs almost every bar table is occupied. Tired, drunk men with their companions huddle around a table with beer mugs and empty plates. Tess crosses the room carrying a tray of food and beer. I follow her to a table near the fireplace where Greg was sitting with a hooded figure. He sees me and I sit across from him while Tess place supper and drinks on the table. Then she places a plate of roast chicken pieces, small plate of mashed potatoes, cup of butter, a bowl of vegetable salad and stale bread.

"Sweety, yer plate and utensils will be right out," says Tess, wiping a hand on her apron, while the other hand balances the tray. "Ah, there's Bog' right now. Here Bog! Over here ye, scout."

I turn to where she was looking and see a blue dog carrying a tray by its mouth walking towards us with six legs. The dog's blue fur has bright markings so intricately made in curvy patterns. It heads this way carrying the tray of empty plates and silverware by the mouth. The dog slides it on our table and obediently sits on four legs while two of its other legs tuck in front, in a begging position. The dog tilts its head perking its pointed-ears up, with tongue lolling out of its smiling dog-face. Two gentle eyes blink up at me while the middle three eyes were closed slits. Usually, this breed of dogs would have all five eyes open for perfect vision seeing multiple things at the same time, this one chooses to focus with only two.

"Bog is me kalestri dog. Trained to wait wit' me when tables are full. You can pet 'im if ye like" - I hesitantly tickled the dog's ear, it makes a whiny noise that mysteriously echoed - "he's not to hurt no one, in fact he is loved by many of me customers.

"He's not like the other mutts. I'm not sure why 'e only opens two bug eyes, I think he's jus' tryin' to blend in with' them other dogs ye know what I mean? He's got none of them hair on his back like other kalestries. Yeah, I found him strayin' along the market, he's from caves of wonders, ye know? Pass the ports from 'ere. Travelled a little too far from home, didn't ye mutt? Now let's go silly blue na'vi, we must leave 'em to finally eat. Well lookie 'ere, 'tis gettin' late all ready, must start cleanin'..."

I turn to Greg who crossed his arms on the table as if something bothered him. The hooded person sitting in front started eating.

"You were enveloping her in a close world Mr. Sabor," hisses a man's voice underneath the hood. "The mage should not have done so in the first place and now you've been allowing her all these years. I am a little disappointed, but I understand the circumstances. We will have to make do."

Greg sighs looking at me with sad grey eyes. _What?_ I want to ask but I turn to the direction of his gaze. My mother is sitting on a short stool in front of the fireplace. Her curly hair shimmer red and gold radiantly by the dancing fire. She seems to be in a trance watching the flames. I bite my lip and look back at Greg who started to eat. I am hungry but my appetite is now hungry for answers as to what is going on.

Almost all the tables in the inn have emptied. It is getting really late and every traveller is leaving. Gradually, our table becomes the most occupied.

"Now." The stranger clears his throat. "As I was saying -"

Before he could continue a ghoul squeezes into the door. Welcoming itself, it orders a drink. Its eyes catch our table. It makes a humming noise and the last few customers leave the inn at the sight of the demon, leaving our table, my mother by the fire, and Tess busy in the kitchen. Count the blue dog and the mysterious moglins too.

The ghoul looks over its shoulder; it was looking at us with black empty eye sockets with nothing but fluorescent green pupils. It wears dark pants, showing off dark green skeleton-like body of bones, skin and muscles. Tess gives it a beer mug, treating it like every customer. Its clawed-hand takes the handle. Not leaving its eyes off our table, it drinks. The hooded guy in front of me nods in the path of the ghoul's stare. I turn away just as I hear the ghoul getting up and walking towards our table. I hear the growling noise behind me and reach for my dagger.

"He's not looking for a fight, Miss dur Gahl," explains the stranger, he finally takes off his hood using fingers that dazzle with gold rings and rubies. "Have a seat." He reveals to me a stern face with black sleek hair and pointy elf ears.

He looks entirely human except for the broad face of a warrior and the pointy ears. How does he know my real last name? He's an elf. His lined expression makes me put away my dagger. I feel air leave my lungs. _He's an elf._ Before I can say anything the ghoul behind me introduces himself.

"Ghoul guard," says the ghoul with a raspy voice. "I am at your service."

The demon's green face is skeleton-like, it almost looks as if he is made of green skin and bones, but the muscles along its arms were visible. His rib cage and entire abdomen bends and I can tell he is awkwardly bowing down. The green head before me has a pointy nose, grinning mouth with sharp teeth, large chin, hollow cheek bones, large friendly pupils and long pointy ears.

I acknowledge the ghoul with a nod, I do not mind him. In fact, I could befriend this particular stranger in pants. What bothers me more is the elf man eating before me. My mother has been telling me all these years that elves do not exist anymore. _This elf man is an elf._

"Miss dur Gahl, your training sessions are almost through," begins the elf. "And once we spend a day at Greengaurd we will challenge your skills with the sword. Afterwards inform you of your next mission."

I cast him a harsh gaze. Who does he think he is? The elf king? I remain quiet. My mouth will explode later.

He proceeds, impervious to my gaze. "I am afraid that this is rather overwhelming for you since your parents have kept so many closed doors in front of you your whole life. At last, doors are to be opened tonight, if you allow us."

The ghoul settles silently on a nearby table. Sitting to face us, he comically tilts his head to the side looking through space.

"I have been trying to forgive myself," whispers my mother, turned away from me, facing the fire. "I was trying to protect you, Arakelle..."

"She was protected," the elf utters. "Now she is to finish what you have started."

"Started?" I firmly ask with a heartless tone. "I wonder what you started, mother." This is rather new. Surely, my mother knew about this when I was born, yet she raised me to be a clueless idiot. Am I ever going to forgive her? Maybe not.

"Have you ever set foot at the eastern part of this world, Miss dur Gahl? Have you ever explored the DwarfholdMountains, steered a ship to YokaiIslands and travelled to Swordhaven and the Neverglades?"

I shake my head. Of course I haven't, can we move on?

"I did not think so. You were raised to only read one chapter of the Book of Lore."

"That did not occur to me before," I say sarcastically, avoiding his gaze.

"Have you ever wondered why you and your mother are cursed to travel a lot, instead of stay in one place to settle in one house, like other families? Have you ever asked yourself why your mother travels to certain places where she can find an array of potions?"

"Am I going to be bombarded with more questions and no answers?" I reply with defiance.

"Your mother, Wiolina, is one of the best students at the Wizard academy and is by far a respected sorceress known to purposely few people." Ignoring my rudeness, he interlaced his hands on the table. What does he mean by _purposely_ a few people?

"I know her through your father and the rogues. I am part of a secret order who, for decades, seek peace among the elves at the eastern country. Your father is one of them.

"Your mother was our mage during the early battles when the Cold War began. She not only fought with us for peace, she fought with us for the freedom of everyone living there at the east.

"We lost battles and with it so many lives. To this day the eastern elves conquer territory with the surviving lords and will kill any trespasser that sets a foot there. Our mages and troops at the Neverglades dread the time when these black-hearted lords start a war again for land expansion. I believe you heard that we lost Swordhaven and Yokai all ready. The next land at stake is the Frozen Northlands; luckily King Cole III is currently aware and prepared for any assault. Rumour has it one of the eastern lords has fallen to illness recently, which explains their recent inactiveness. The eastern warriors are strong and I am afraid your father remains lost with them."

"My father is...one of...them? What do you -?"

"Many years ago he gave your mother a sword that was made especially for you. Wiolina is still working on the spell that will activate its true potential, that is why you two have been travelling everywhere for potions. You are going to -"

"How is he one of them?" I interrupt with a superior tone, sitting up straight.

"I-" he fumbles.

"I - what?"

Long pause.

Choosing his words, he says, "I am not the right person to inform you of this particular in-"

"Fine. Don't tell me." I get up. "I don't want to help you guys." And I can't believe mother would send someone to tell me these things, instead of telling me herself. Coward. I could not bear to continue.

I stride out of the table careful not to trip over green ghoul feet. My mother stands up to seize me but I ignore her sudden attention.

As I go upstairs, Greg catches my arm. I turn to see a sad face, lined with worry and regret. His brows crease with a look that wants me to get back to the table and calm down. But my stare loosened his grip and I make a dash for my room.

All this time, throughout my years growing up with the Cold War, my real father is with the enemy at the east. I'm the blood of a traitor. An enemy.

The door slams shut and I hope it was loud enough for everyone downstairs to hear. I drop on my bed soaking the pillow with tears.


	4. Chapter 4: Stranger by the Candlelight

**Chapter 4: Stranger by the Candlelight**

That night, I get up to open the window and breathe. My eyes are red and puffy from crying myself to sleep. For heaven's sake, what have I cried for anyways? I light a small candle using an old fire spell that my mother taught me when I was little. It hurt to conjure the flame, somehow.

What is this about my father being at the eastern side of the country? He is one of them? Maybe he is imprisoned by the eastern elves. What are the eastern elves anyways? Elves like the one I just met? I left the conversation too early and I got angry too early. Impulsive. Maybe what annoyed me is how my mother brings a total stranger to inform me of all this instead of her telling me directly. Questions fill my head and it must be past mid night.

The door slowly open and I step outside to go to the nearest bathroom. I think washing my face can clear up any evidence of a coward's tears. The wooden floors creak at my every step. Unexpectedly, I see a lonely light downstairs. The fireplace is turned it off a long time ago, but someone is still downstairs. I take a towel from the bathroom, wipe my face and sneak down the staircase to investigate. The dagger I carry sheathed alongside my belt.

The inn is eerie at night when Tess is sleeping, the fireplace burnt out and all of the chairs are stacked on tables for floor sweeps in the morning. I finally get a glimpse of the far counter where the small candle light is illuminating. A figure is there, with one arm on the table, like he's waiting for the waiter.

Tess's dog is nowhere to be seen. Bog would be really useful right now. I cautiously approach, one hand holding the dagger hilt. It is a short dagger but it is the only one I have right now. The chairs are useful weapons too, I reassure myself. I even have spells memorized. My head feels groggy; maybe magic isn't very reliable at the moment. I might burn the inn.

I come closer, hiding my face in the shadows of stacked chair. The figure looks like another elf and his eyes are closed. I cannot tell if his skin colour is being obscured by the dark or if it is really steel blue in colour. His hair is silvery white, brushed back. He has youthful human features and broad shoulders, built to fight. His gloved hand moves and I can tell he is skilled, with stealth armour like that he is armed. His mouth and nose are covered by a dark red scarf, something ninjas are seen with, but he is no ninja with those pointy ears and shiny white hair. Hood pulled back, his face motionless by the candlelight.

"You are not the stealthy type, are you?" says the crystal clear voice from behind the red scarf. He has an accent.

I don't reply instead I try to clear my mind for any enchantment. I hear a quiet laughter from him.

"So…isn't this the part when you ask me who I am and what do I want?" He massages his temple with a gloved hand.

Charming. I remain where I stand which is a distance away from the pointy-eared boy. He casts me a quizzical look, making me jump. He has purple eyes, like mine.

"You - you're…" I stutter, incredulously. Knees weak, my free hand catches a table side.

"You are too," he whispers. "But why are yours glowing?"

His hand on the table lifts up, revealing a mirror. The reflection show my eyes glowing with an iridescent purple light; similar to how cats' eyes would glow for nocturnal vision. A thousand hammers pound my head. My legs grow heavy with every step back and my lungs pump fast.

Suddenly air brush from behind me and I feel the hard wooden floor hit my face hard. It is too late to get my dagger as a blue paw pressed my arm. I can feel several claws pressing me down. My head is racing.

The low growling on my back is familiar. Bog, this time with four of his eyes open. The traitorous dog is on top of me, I can shake him off no problem. My body twitches to give the dog a shove but the blue six-legged hound does not budge, he is flexed to the core like foundation. My limbs are pinned by a paw and my entire body is pressed to the ground. I can hear the footsteps of the freak walking up to us.

His boots stop near my face. He kneels on one leg with the candle that lit my curiosity in the first place.

"Don't you dare-" I growl. I try to conjure up a freezing spell but Bog's paws hold me down and the icicles turn to water along my palms.

I manage to kick a table rattling it enough to drop a chair on the dog on top of me. Bog whines but remains firm, pinning my free leg with a clawed foot. I try to turn over but a hand gently holds my head down.

"I'm not going to hurt you, damn it." He fingers my neck and I feel a drop of candle wax. It burns the back of my neck and sleep suddenly burdens my eyelids. My headache stops and the kalestri hound pads off my back feeling confident that I would not jump on him or his master.

I pull my body up using my arms to face the elf but before I can get a better look at him everything blurs, my arms suddenly wobble instantly forcing me down.

"Let your mother talk to you, in the meantime, I think the drop will help you travel undetected," his voice fades. I lose consciousness and I feel gloves catch me before my face hit the floor again. I surrender to sleep.

* * *

"Darling, wake up," says a familiar blur.

Sunlight stream through the open window of the room and the smell of baked bread flows by my nose. It takes me a while to finally realize where I am. I am in the same room I dropped into last night after the conversation and before the encounter with - the dog. Bog's head is perched on the end of my bed with a whimpering echoic noise and a beady two-eyed expression.

"Go away you mutated pooch!" I scramble, sitting up.

"Now what did he do to you, Arakelle?" Mother busies herself packing up my things. She carries the bag and places it outside. A chicken-sized bright yellow creature with stubby limbs and large ears appear with a wagon.

"That wouldn't do," says my mother with a cheery voice I had not heard in a long time. "Call your friends over to bring these downstairs, please."

The cute creature bounces up and squeaks around the hallways. I hear more pattering on the floor and red, blue, and bright green big ears appear behind the yellow one. They carry the bag and one pulls the wagon out of the way. A _whee!_ echoes at the stairwell as the moglins go down to the front.

"Was I here sleeping on my bed the whole night?" I ask.

"Yes, darling," mother replies, worriedly. "Why? What happened?"

This time, I believe her. This time she carries the clueless expression I bore in my childhood. "Never mind, it must have been a dream." Uncertain of my answer, I stretch my limbs.

The kalestri dog walks over to the end table of the bed and its nose points to the plate of bread. I am still angry at it from last night. It almost feels like he's acting like it never happened. Did it happen?

I reach to the back of my neck where I expect a candle wax burnt mark but there is no bulge, nor scar, nor marking. Nothing. Nothing different along my arms, my muscles feel fine. No bruise on my cheek. I look around the room for anything unusual but there is only my mother and the kalestri dog padding up to the corridor.

Whatever happened last night must have been a dream, however it felt real. I put my hands to my face to finally wake up. Mother walks out of the room and comes back with a large bowl of water and a towel.

"I need to give you something, before we leave for Greengaurd. How Lord Pierce would put it last night, doors are going to be opened to you. I hope undoing this spell will answer many questions."

"Undoing it? You mean, you placed it on me before and never took it off?" I ask her, dazed.

"I will teach you how to hide it. It was to hide your identity from everyone and it was to protect you in the first place. Now I believe the whole world is ready to finally act."

"Hide what?"

My mother does not answer.

She places the bowl of water in front of her feet and whispers an incantation. Her hands levitate a sphere of water and it floats toward me. The blue dog calmly sits watching the sphere closing to my face. I do not resist and I let the sphere tickle the side of my right cheek. It rubs and rubs cleaning something that was never there before. Then with the twist of my mother's fingers the sphere lifts into the air and sprays mist spreading cool drops of water everywhere in the room.

I feel my right cheek and for the first time I find grooves along it. Mother holds out a mirror and shows me a reflection of my face. There is a tattoo at my cheek near my nose and lip. It displays an outline shaping a side view of a limbless dragon with a curved wing, spikes along its back and a tail fashioned in an "S" shape.

"This particular tattoo is a logo, a symbol, engraved on your cheek when you were born," she says. Bog could not resist a tail wag and a smile. My mother whispers something across the room that I scarcely hear. "It is the dragon symbol, from the eastern elves called the Drow."


	5. Chapter 5: Good to Know

**Chapter 5: Good to Know**

Outside of the inn, a large tusked camel is tied to a food filled carriage. Tess is holding the reins of the beast and sees me go out the door. It seems unusually shady for a sunny day at the oasis. A sun ray hits my face then disappears enveloping me with a shadow. The sky is blocked by a large hovering sailboat.

Floating above the Trader's Inn is an elegant SkyGaurd air ship possibly carrying a familiar crew on the deck. The belly gleams with blue fire from the tips of engine pipes, to keep it aloft. The sails are translucent under the sun and below the stern dorsal-fin-like rudders tilt at an angle. The ship's bow point north and from below it looks like a swordfish.

The dog tags my hand with its nose and I pull my hand away. Stupid Bog, he lost my trust after last night's tackle. Had it really happened?

My attention turns to Tess, I am full from the breakfast in bed but she offers me more. I mumble an answer behind the mouth mask and Tess gets the answer from my body language.

Tess smiles, "Well, blessed travels, sweety."

I nod to her gratefully. I am still adjusting to the new mask my mother gave me. It was to cover my nose and mouth temporarily to hide the scar on my cheek. She says she is going to teach me the spell while we're traveling and I still need an explanation as to who gave this to me.

Mother waits by the front yard standing beside an enormous chain link tied to a stressed palm tree. She is dressed in her most usual clothing and I walk up to her self-conscious of my boring dark leather-trimmed outfit. I sling a sheath of arrows on my back.

"Everything, here?" She asks, kindly.

"Yeah. I have my arrows on my back, don't I?" I am still harsh on her after last night and now this scar on my face adds to the mix. A couple more doors are left closed.

She sighs then waves to Tess goodbye. The kalestri dog licks my hand. I almost forgot it was beside me.

"You can't come. You're here with Tess," I say to the blue canine. "Besides, I still hate you for what happened last night, if it did happen." I keep my voice low careful not to catch my mother's attention. She is drawing a circle in the air making a teleportation bubble to take us to the floating airship.

"Stay here. I don't even know if you like heights." I have mixed feelings for this unusual dog. I must admit, I will miss him.

The hound whimpers and steps out of the way, suddenly, guilt creeps up on me. My mother's hand rest on my shoulder, I wave goodbye to the innkeeper and her dog. Immediately, a blue sphere engulfs us.

This teleportation portal swallows my mother and me in a see-through bubble that floats us up to the deck of the airship. I feel the vertigo of the flight that includes no seat belts, no handles, only an invisible floor and wall. My legs feel heavy and my hand seeks the bubble's walls for a handle to hold on to.

"Careful darling this might pop," my mother grins.

"That's not funny," I scowl.

I see the kalestri dog looking up at us with its two open eyes while running around in a circle, tongue lolling out of his mouth and Tess waving at us with her camel cart of food. I wonder when we will visit them, maybe next time I'll try to talk to the crew of moglins she hired.

* * *

We reach the ship's deck and Gregory greets us. He takes my mother's hand. The deck is almost empty, except for a ghoul swabbing the wooden floor, a stout person sight-seeing at the front and a dwarf by the stern screaming to no one in particular about a seagull in sight.

Behind us is the door for the captain's quarters and above the stern is the quarter deck where the rudder control is located.

"Would you like a tour around the ship, my lady?" Greg asks with the usual smile. The man gracefully takes his wife to his right, like they were about to dance around the deck of the ship.

"Gregory," she looks at him, her saint-like features stricken with sadness. "She knows now."

Greg's face turns dark. "Not everything," he says thoughtfully. Stepping aside, he opens the door to the captain's chamber. To my mistake this door opens to a hallway of three doors. One label shows 'Crew Quarters', the other 'Kitchen and Dining' and on the far right is the 'Captain's Quarters'.

Mother leads me to the captain's quarters and I find myself looking at large windows opening to the sunlight.

"A lady? Keep your eyes to yourself, Sneezes," says a dark haired boy bolting right up from a lounge chair as we enter the room. A yellow-eyed short creature sitting on an antique foot stool, grunts at his exclaim.

"Ah, quit makin' a scene." The creature lands on the imported rug. "Ah pleasure to meet you, Lady Wiolina dur Gahl. I-I can't believe I am to –to help escort your daughter. Please, my name is Sneezes the Sneevil." He bows modestly.

The young boy wearing a fancy blue and yellow uniform clears his throat and steps forward with swagger, hands linger at the golden cross belt across his chest. The cross belt carries two bladed swords on the back and by the looks of his form I bet he's a skilled fighter.

His blue eyes wink at me, I flinch, raising a brow. He looks like a year or two older than me and has dark brown wavy hair that reaches to the back of his neck in a flamboyant brush. Handsome, but he seems to be the arrogant type.

I fix my mask to hide my tight-lipped mouth. There is something inside me that wanted to leave the room.

"May I introduce myself? I am," he bows like a gentleman, "the commander of this ship and a pleasure to meet you, Lady Wiolina dur Gahl. This must be your daughter, Arakelle dur Gahl. I look forward to knowing you. My name is Sir Crowe, but you can call me Elias. Elias Crowe." He holds out his hand for a handshake. I decide to play with this.

"Oh, sir," I curtsy. This young man surely knows how to flirt, but I know how to bite. "Sorry, for the inconvenience but my mother and I would like it if you leave the room."

Elias can't see me smile behind this mask. But he can really see my venomous eyes. He awkwardly puts his hand away and his flushed features hid behind a tuft of wavy hair.

The sneevil watching us the whole time laughs his ears off. Sneezes the sneevil leaves the area and I can hear him still laughing over the walls. Elias in the fancy suit no longer feels superior. He fixes the goggles on his head and marches out of the door giving my mother a smile and a nod, keeping a distance from me like I had a force field that will burn his precious light skin. His large golden plate shoulder pads bump the doorway as he leaves the room.


	6. Chapter 6: The Confessions of the Sorc

**Chapter 6: The Confessions of the Sorceress**

My mother strolls pass me as I adjust the mask over my nose. She elegantly settles to one of the red velvet chairs and invites me by the coffee table.

This room smells like new fabric, with the veiled curtains and cedar cabinet drawers the whole place seems imported. I spy a hanging portrait of Elias Crowe and a man behind him, possibly his father. It hangs above a large fake fireplace a few feet from where the bed is located. Instead of settling around the lounge with my mother I lean on a bed post.

"All they need is a porcelain vase to complete the room. Or maybe some roses and popuri…" I take off my mask to finally breathe. Is that lilac I smell? Yes, this room has everything.

My mother straightens up firmly. "That was very rude of you darling. Everyone is being so kind."

"And I'm the one party pooping the place. I'm sorry." Ashamed, I face the floor.

"You apologize to the Captain later. What do you have against the poor boy anyways? He's running a ship and -"

"I'm curious mother, does he have a tattoo?" I check my face at a bronze-framed mirror. She can sense my pulsing anger.

"What would you like me to answer first? I am finally open to every question you have. Should I start with your birthmark?" her voice softens.

The mage is being serious. For the first time her eyes look different, worn and depressed. The chandelier on the ceiling lights not a saint-like facade, but a worried, exhausted expression of a grief-stricken woman. Shadows of misery and regret paint her face. Her hands clasp in front of her as she sits straight but her shoulders droop with a heavy burden.

I have not seen her like this before. She had always been glowing with hope and compassion even through tough times. Now I'm looking at an exhausted stranger who fought a great battle years ago. Back at the inn I called her a coward and I regret it completely.

Carefully, I sit on a chair next to her, she has taken too much of my hostility. I take off the belt around me which carried a sheath of arrows and place them on the glass coffee table, not caring about the scratches the sheath can make on the pricey piece of furniture.

"Well, I was hoping you can tell me about this scar," I murmur softly. It is hard to look at her like this; she looks so fragile and vulnerable.

She begins. No lies anymore. "I've been involved in the war in the early decades, serving as a mage in the Secret Order. After losing the first few battles we never stopped fighting. I reckon you overheard many things about the Cold War, darling…

"The scar is the outline of the violet dragon twisted along the sabre sword of a drow soldier. It was engraved along your right cheek by Achilles dur Gahl. He is a drow soldier and your father. Achilles is an eastern elf. Part of the Cold War and ruled by the Eastern Drow Lords, he will be executed if he leaves the mountains. Any letter from him would have been burnt if it weren't for my spells.

"When you were born almost everyone at Greengaurd expected you to be killed the next day because you are born half drow and half human. You are a rare half blood, Arakelle.

"For many years, humans with the blood of elves were never a threat, but they were an old ongoing threat to the drows at the mountains. Drows were known to kill any hybrids of their kind. In history they have eliminated a couple of half drows and a few suspected to be half drow.

"When Achilles and I planned to separate ways so our family can be in no danger, he asked me if he can mark you with the symbol of the drow. I was really upset at this because it will really be the key thing that might kill you in the future. But then he tells me something I will never forget…_'This mark will let her know that she is the symbol of hope and peace. Peace and balance between night and day...drow and man.'_

"It was the reason that I allowed him to mark you, my child." Tears stream down her eyes, but she smiles. Her gentle hand lifts my chin. "Your father and I are both lucky to have you. Alive and well, I've been sending him letters and photos of you growing up. And he replies, telling me to keep you safe and protected.

"Your father longs to see you. But he cannot or else our plans will be destroyed. The Secret Order is monitoring him; he is not one of us as he is loyal to the Drow Lords. There is a strategy laid out all over the kingdom of Greengaurd. One false move and an entire decade of planning will fall. If that happens, the Drows will rule, I'm sure you know that.

"I've been keeping you away from all this because I thought...I..." She chokes back tears, carefully saying her words. "I think you might go look for Achilles"

Wiolina inhales slowly, leaving one more door closed. She persists.

"One night, I remember you saw me putting away a wrapped broomstick you called it. Darling, it was the sword that Achilles made especially for you before you were born when I told him I was expecting you. You can't use it yet, thought," - she catches the twitch at the corner of my mouth – "You have not fully learned everything about a sword. And…I have not gathered all my ingredients for this, piece of cake." My mother let out a long weary sigh.

"You have an important mission in this war and you'll know that later when the time comes." She takes a moment to pause.

"Promise me, dearest." She stresses every word. "Never seek your father. Understand?"

I nod, slightly. "I understand." I think it could endanger the entire mission - all laid out by the Secret Order.

She gradually stands up, no longer tired. The woman's curls bounce behind her as she flows across the room. Wiolina dur Gahl wipes her eyes dry.

I could hardly speak, still stunned from the conversation. I'm confused. Relax. It is the overwhelming truth. I must relax. I start to smile, pulling back tears.

My mother sighs with relief. Her gaze carries an expression I had not seen for a long time, across her face is a smile and with it are two pearly emerald eyes that blinked with relief and sparks of hope. I think this is the face my mother wore with Achilles. I remember this visage in Greg's wedding.

The door closes behind mother and I lean back on the chair, putting my feet on the coffee table. The anger towards my father dissolved during my mother's confession and I feel a tranquil state coming up.

So I am part of a big plan. I am going to be used in the future. Whatever it is, I have a feeling that I will encounter a life or death situation. In the end, what I do might save the world or end it. I'm still perplexed with my position in the war. Then my dream comes to mind. Maybe Bog just looked like the dog in my dreams, coincidentally. But who was the elf? Was he an eastern elf? I'll talk to Greg about all this later. Right now, the only thing that matters to me is relaxation.

I rest on the red velvet chair and lace my hands behind my head, putting one thing in my mind. And that is my father, the drow. I start to wonder what he looks like. I chuckle at the thought of him muscular, wearing tights and a cape like a Superman. Well, that's a start.

I take in a deep breath and say his name out loud just for myself to hear. "Achilles dur Gahl," I whisper, "I have a father named Achilles dur Gahl and he believes that I can bring peace and hope to this world."

Determination wells up inside me, whatever the Secret Order wants me to do, I vow, I will do it.


	7. Chapter 7: Fancy That Little Miss Purple

**Chapter 7: Fancy That Little Miss Purple**

Streaks of yellow and orange smudge the afternoon sky. During my mother's conversation we did not feel the ship drift away from the cities of the desert. Across the flat tundra the tall pyramids look like mini triangles. Down below is sand and more sand, which means that we're heading northward. The further north the ship sails, the less and less signs of vegetation on the arid wasteland.

Winds plough the barrens, rearranging dunes. I inhale the evening breeze. It is really breathtaking to fly. Throughout my life this is my first time on an airship. I have observed and studied them from books and I am finally aboard one.

The higher the altitude of the ship the more uncomfortable passengers are openly on deck. However, in an airship manufactured from Skygaurd, there is a lever in the control room that conditions the oxygen circulation especially made for the crew. This is to protect lungs when you fly up to greater altitudes. I check the side of the ship and see "Sagra Leon" written in a neat longhand. Nice name for a female airship.

The railing is metal, shiny and new, coated with layers of weather resists. The control room sits like an island in the center of the main deck, holding the engine pipe. Inside are controls and a trap door which leads to the boilers. In front of it is a mainmast, reinforcing the main sail. Above, there is a blue flag displaying a gold bird. I think it must be the logo of the Crowe family.

On board the activity is slow and peaceful. The ghoul I met yesterday - finished swabbing the floors - is frisking around the ropes of the sails, checking the tension.

He taps a metal pulley nearby.

"Miss dur Gahl," he bows.

"You don't have to bow, it's not like I'm royalty or anything. In fact, it's getting on my nerves."

The ghoul's eyes wander pass my shoulder and seem to look out into space. "As you wish," he replies in his raspy voice.

"Um," I could not find the words. I rest three fingers on my right cheek, feeling conscious of the tattoo. "I'm just wondering who that elf was. The one who knows you. At Trader's Inn…"

He senses my stammer. "Are you going to question me of my business with Lord Pierce?"

I eagerly nod.

"He's an amazing man," he answers, shifting his look to the skies. He holds the rail. "Well, elf, if you must say. There is barely a difference only pointy ears. Oh, look! I think that cloud is in the shape of a tree. Do you see it?"

He changes the topic so quickly. "Anything wrong talking about this Lord Pierce person…?" I ask.

"Not really, I just thought that cloud looks like a tree."

Funny ghoul. The cloud that interrupted our conversation does look like a tree, except something else catches my eye. Where the clouds form "tree roots" I spy a seed-shaped aircraft. It looks like another ship. I recollect the old legends about pirates.

A long time ago, there were stories of a space traveling thief, who pirated the sky on a space shuttle called the Hyperium Starship. Many sailors across the sea and sky thirsted for a sight of the starship. In addition to a feared and respected captain they said the vessel carried mechanisms and weapons, treasures from galaxies through time. The man who commands the ship was a thief and a bounty hunter with a letter and a number for his name. They called him J6, the bounty hunter of the Hyperium. These were stories told a long, long time ago, now people simply take them as myths.

"Oh look, the cloud tree germinated a seed," cheers the ghoul gleefully. He sways his body from side to side, like he's listening to music.

The crow's nest is empty. Is anyone else seeing this mysterious aircraft besides me and the bouncing ghoul?

Unlike many Skygaurd airships, Sagra Leon is constructed with a short chimney pipe to filter engine fumes and curving away from it is a crescent main mast that supports a sail and a barrel called the crow's nest. I reckon airship designs have evolved over the decades, but the aesthetic appeal remained.

"Hmpf. Buzzard must be sleeping," comments the ghoul, ignoring him I rush to the quarter deck to find the captain. But all I see is the familiar sneevil behind the ship's wheel.

"There's another airship southeast from here…er…" I stop myself before I could ask where the captain is.

The ghoul takes his time stepping on each stair, long arms flailing as he climbs to the stern. "Don't worry, Sneezes, is one of the best drivers. He does not need to see where the front is pointing. He uses his sensitive hearing. I drive this thing too…sometimes."

The sneevil snorts. "Check and see, tall gremlin. The grids were beeping last time." He takes out a spyglass from his vest and throws it at the ghoul, who catches it with ease.

The ghoul offers the spyglass to me with a sharp-teethed grin, he insists me to take a close look at the sighted aircraft. Before I could take the spyglass from him someone snatches it from behind. With fast reflexes, I elbow whoever it is. I turn to see so-called Elias Crowe holding the spyglass. I suppose he dodged my elbow attack.

"Too slow, Scarface," he says with a sneer.

The tattoo on my cheek is freely displayed for all to see, the ghoul and the sneevil did not say anything about it. Elias is the first to mention it.

"I see you've met Sneezes and green-eyes here…" The captain raises a hand to the ghoul, "is Croup, representative of the ghoulish community for the Secret Order." The ghoul waves to me as his name is mentioned. Elias mumbles to the ghoul, "Croup trim those nails, you might stab someone."

Croup gasps in shock at the sight of his ghoulish fingers - like he's never seen them in his life.

"Right," Elias straightens himself. The fair-haired boy expertly spins the spyglass and looks out into the sunset sky at the direction of the spotted ship. "It looks fierce, orange in colour at this time of day. It's called the sun, Little Miss Purple Pants."

My lips twitch to a scowl, I am not wearing purple pants they are actually dark blue to match my three-quarter-sleeved top, in the Skygaurd theme. Lucky for him, I'm unarmed.

"Give me that." I steal the telescope from him and pointed the spyglass to where I last saw the ship. There is nothing there. The sky is empty and it is beginning to dim. I give him the spyglass. The ghoul is sitting on the floor, oddly looking up at the clouds. Croup has seen the ship too. I keep my mouth shut. I suppose they can rely on their security radar.

"Well, now that we saw the sun together," says captain Crowe. "Get your parents up here and we'll have ourselves a dinner on the deck. It is occasionally done. You'll love how the food and drinks would simply fly up to our mouth." He chuckles, brushing off the hair from his face as he puts on gold-framed goggles. "Tonight is your first night on my ship. Let's make it special, hmm?" He winks his icy blue eyes at me.

"You're being nice to me, after what I said to you earlier?"

"Surprise, surprise," he says drawing close so close that I can feel his breathe on my face.. I can't shake my head because he is annoyingly close. "What's this? Little Miss Pink Penelope is a little concerned. Don't worry; my kindness towards you is ice thin. It can easily shatter if you want it to. I'm all ready letting you bunk in my ship, like a gentleman. If you do anything stupid like scratch a single nail on Sagra Leon, you will regret it. Follow me and maybe I'll let you eat the key lime pie."

"You must be baby sitting this ship for your father," I remember the painted father-son portrait at the captain's chamber. I pull myself together and stand straight as a doornail, my face an inch away from his'. "Don't worry, I won't do anything stupid. I'll just let you do that." Though he is taller than me by a few inches, he backs off from my retort.

"Your first impression is memorable, Miss Prissy Pony of Aggravation." He takes the wheel. "I understand you have family issues." He mumbles, "Maybe even personality issues."

"I understand you have girl issues," I mutter, arms cross in front of me. "Maybe even vanity issues." Elias's shoulder tense, he politely orders Sneezes to go to the kitchen. The sneevil disappears; joining this conversation is not a good idea at the moment.

Croup the ghoul feels the tension as well. He slips away and heads to the forecastle dock of the ship. He pulls up a stool and starts to play chess by himself. Elias and I are left alone by the wheel.

I sigh. Earlier my mother talked about this. I should not show hostility to kind people. He's not being kind. I suppose, he's being spoiled, arrogant and annoying.

"I'm sorry," my mouth slips out the apology before I could clench my teeth. I do not look at him directly in the eye. I did humiliate him in front of my mother and his sneevil. Feeling ashamed, I turn away.

A heavy silence follows. The bright sunset horizon is swallowed by the jaws of the night. The serene desert rests under the gradient sky. Thin mists of clouds hovers beneath the ship, making Sagra Leon look like it is truly floating on water.

The silence is disturbed by Croup's grunts and hums in his game of chess across the deck. "Now your turn." I hear him say to himself.

"Sorry for…?" Ignoring my presence, he stares out at the clouds before him, hands on the wheel. "Oh, I see you must be sorry for making me look like a fool in front of your dazzling mother. It is a pity that she's a really gorgeous woman who gave birth to a piece of slime."

Heat rises to my head. I calm myself by taking a deep breath.

"Ooh…wrong move," Croup mutters from across the deck. A sound of scrambling chess pieces follow.

I roughly turn to face Elias. He flaunts a smug expression. I stomp up to him with fury, raging like a bull.

"No," I say through gritted teeth, my voice rising. "I'm sorry that you're such an arrogant son of a -"

"Ha!" The ghoul cries from the front castle. Elias and I hear him hum and say "Oh...that's a good one." Then a sound of scuffling fingers and chess pieces is heard again.

Another heavy silence chills the air. I walk away from Elias' range to settle at the bottom of the stair beside the door to the hallway. It is beginning to freeze as a cold blanket settles in the ship.

Oxygen is circulating, comforting the crew, but the sudden chill makes them jump. I'm sure they are all cozy in the cabin hold. Everyone, including my parents, is downstairs probably preparing food or conversing with one another. I am freezing up here with Elias and Croup playing chess with himself.

The chilly air turns my breath into white smoke. I am not fully clothed for a cool night out on the sky. I stand up to head to the captain's quarters when Elias calls me over with another nickname.

"Wait, Scary Mary!" he orders.

I want to go inside but I halt under his command. The name-calling is going to turn my head into a volcano.

"What is it?" I ask, flatly. "I was about to go in your room to steal myself a Red fur-line Peruvian blanket."

"That won't be necessary," he responds.

Elias leaves the wheel and climbs down to the main deck. He enters the control room where there ship's engine is connected to the boilers and he pulls a lever beside the oxygen switch. A vent located at the front of the control room opens its flaps. Another vent facing the poop deck opens at the same time and from these vents came a warm heating air. Heaters!

Croup gets up to examine the heater near him. He hums contentedly and then refocuses on his game. Everything feels warmer but I keep my arms wrapped around my sides. I lean at the side of the warm control room, listening to the taps and slides from Croup's chess game.

"Not bad eh, Princess Purple?" The young captain comes out of the control room, his goggles fogging up. He takes them off and returns to his post.

The two swords on his back shine gold under the moonlight. I suppose Elias loves luxurious gold so much he carries them everywhere ostentatiously. Unconcerned of whoever might steal them. I rub my temples and slowly approach him at the wheel. I wonder if he knows anything about pirates.

"If you're going to ask about dinner it will be ready when the dwarf sings," he says, sharply.

I roll my eyes. He is not even with the wheel instead he's at the very end of the ship perching on the rail. He sits on the edge valiantly, like he's done so many times. Carefree, Elias stares out into the black abyss observing the turbulence, his leather boots dangling out to the open. A path of clouds trail behind the ship and at the far distance it dissolves, leaving no signs of Sagra Leon's route.

"I'm just going to interrogate you about the dwarf." I step up to the poop deck and bravely sit on the edge a distance from the captain.

I wonder if I fall off, the blame is on him. I look pass my free legs and gasp at the sight. It is a plummet pass the stern's balcony to the ground a hundred thousand feet below. I can handle wild beasts with whips, knives, and swords, but not vertigo. A sickening thought comes to mind, I swing my feet safely on deck.

"On second thought, I'll be the coward tonight," I admit.

"Don't be," says Elias, out of random.

I cast him a questioning look but he doesn't turn to me. _What does he know?_ My back is turned to the fall of doom and I securely sit with my elbows on my knees, watching the peaceful deck. I wonder why the captain never hired so many crew men. Is this how it usually is at night? Quiet, still and at ease?

"Actually, I just came over here, to apologize for my apology and for whatever happened before that," I fumble. The scarf around my neck is getting tighter at every word. I need him to forgive me, for my mother to be satisfied and for myself. "I've just been so rude lately. Even I can't stand myself. I think, I built an empire of angst towards my mother and my father and I let it out on others. I…well…"

I think about continuing. Elias pulls his legs up to rest his arms on his knees. "Don't mind me, carry on." He wears an unreadable expression.

An awkward pause follows.

"So," I say the word stressing the syllable. "Elias." A first time I say his name properly. "I'm curious to how you got promoted captain. I saw a painted portrait of you and your father. What's he like?"

He chortles, "Certainly not like yours."

I look away from his beam.

He realizes what he said. "Sorry, I didn't mean to. It's just that my father and I rarely speak. He is a workaholic at Skygaurd, occupied by his inventions that can help the war. I visited him recently and we barely talked. He was too busy to chat. I feel like I'm one of his old projects already finished and out travelling for show."

A frown appears on his face. "He was not like that back then. See, he used to be the captain of this ship when I was little. Now that the war is becoming worse I hardly ever see him. I turned fifteen and he gave me this ship to maintain. I've been taking care of her ever since. I keep hoping to sail with my father again."

I am at a loss of words. I do not know what to say to him. I hear Croup cry out 'Checkmate!' on the other end of the deck. At the far end, the ghoul started twitching and flailing his limbs.

"Let him do his happy dance. It's normal," mutters Elias. He hops back on deck.

"You only have a few crewmen on board?"

"My father provides a budget to keep this boat intact," he replies, stretching. "Trust a few guys to lift barrels and I'm fine. I can sail this entirely by myself, ask anyone."

Still arrogant. He must not have encountered an enemy before. "What about pirates?"

"Pirates? There hasn't been an enemy ship for decades. Everyone in the sky is friendly. Maybe the rare adventurous wind creatures are to worry about, but no pirates. If there will be one that's not a problem. I will give them a run and no doubt I'll lose them. Don't underestimate the Sagra Leon, Miss Pansy."

I ignore his last sentence as my thoughts linger in the fact that there has not been a pirate in the sky for decades. I start to wonder if the sky is the safest place to be or the arena for a future ambush. Mother's words flash in my mind, _there is a strategy laid out all over the kingdom of Greengaurd_. I shake away the thought.

"So when is the dwarf going to sing?"

Elias puts his hands to his waist. "Dwarves don't sing, especially the one in my boat."

"You know what I mean."

"Ah. Yes, dinner. About that..." The boy opens a circular compartment at the center of the rudder wheel. A computer screen appears displaying a radar and compass. There are buttons and switches aligned at the bottom with mini labels. The entire wheel is a mini control system by itself.

"Don't tell me it comes with a cup holder." I jump off the rail. I take a moment to appreciate the polished wooden floor.

Elias replies, with the honey-coated words."You know about that, too? You must also check out the mini menu system here. It orders food from downstairs and floats it all the way up here."

He taps the screen with a finger wearing a gold and brown glove. "Nothing blinking. No threat until we reach a few miles."

"A short-range radar," I observe, "if you ask me, that isn't so dependable. Did you spend most of your money on the luxurious décor?

"Maybe I did," he retorts, "got a problem, Girl-with-the-Dragon-Tattoo?"

"Want me to give you a scar?" I scowl at him. We're back to arguing.

"And alas!" he snaps his fingers as if the idea never occurred to him before. "Hold that thought – I feel hungry - Mister Croup!" He calls the ghoul holding a mop and bucket. I reckon the ghoul's favourite thing to do on the ship is to mop and play chess.

Croup steps, fourth and Elias assigns him to wake up someone named Buzzard. The ghoul salutes his captain and just like that he climbs up the ratlines that lead to the crow's nest.

"Don't worry," Elias says to me, "I buzzed Paris downstairs to remind him of the evening meal."

Paris? I suppose this Paris must be the cordon bleu of the ship.

At that moment, the sails billow ferociously as a sudden cold wind jettisons the craft forward. The Sagra sprints, the front hull dipping for a few seconds. I hold my ground until the ship steadies again.

"Queer," laughs Elias holding the wheel. "That's what you call a head start!" A buzzing sounds from the radar. He closes the hidden control compartment and keeps his hand on the circular handle, prepared for another unsteady thrust. He is enjoying the situation but I can tell he's puzzled.

"Besides the jokes, we could use a little ordering around, don't you think?" I remind the amused captain.

Buffeting winds like that are caused by turbulence from another ship or by a mage's manipulation or – I make a dreadful notion - from a wind creature. Another sudden gust follows veering us off course and then it stops. There is another one coming fast.

I search myself for any dagger, whip or sword that can me hold on to the ship, but I remember leaving my arrows in the captain's quarters. Only magic can help now. I rapidly conjure an infusion spell, a blue chain of sparks spiral around me. I do not hesitate to generate a similar shield around Elias. This will help tie us on board.

A tidal wind makes the ship buck and the strong current throws off my concentration, sending me to the floor. I cough out air, as I pull myself up again. The captain hauls the rudder control like it weighs a hundred tonnes.

"Talk about the winds of war," laughs Elias, unaffected by the gravity of the situation. "I see we have an intruder. Brace yourselves and buckle up!" He hollers as another jolt of wind violently shakes the ship. Elias's stomach hits the wheel, abruptly choking his laughter.

"Your orders are loud and clear, Captain," I lift him back up. He takes the wheel again with an excited attitude. I bend my knees and free my arms to keep stability on the swaying ship and to quickly grab on to something in case I fly off. I'm not going to rely on my spells so I scan the deck for a rope.

"Master Crowe! Help!" howls one of the crewmates. Croup's losing balance. He's dangerously high up, clinging on the bottom plank of the crow's nest. The ghoul must have been thrown off by the acceleration. Before Elias could say an order, I run across the main deck. I was trying to find ropes when the captain throws me a heavy loop. I scowl at him, but he doesn't see. He disappears into the control room, leaving the rudder control quivering. The wheel shakes trying to keep the ship under auto control while it waits for the driver.

As I make my climb up the ratlines I hear a snoring noise in the crow's nest above. It must be someone named Buzzard, lying around the job. I level with Croup and threw one end of the rope to him. He catches it and struggles to tie it around his waist, legs clinging onto the mast.

The entire ship bolts again as another gust attacks. Elias comes out of the control room and scrambles up to the wheel enjoying the rush. I curse quietly; the captain likes this violent roller coaster.

An arm reaches out from the crow's nest just above Croup. I do not have another rope.

"Buzzard, Miss dur Gahl! It's Buzzard!" yells Croup through the howling wind. Another gust smites us and I sway sideways clinging to the uneasy rope ladder.

"Here!" I throw the other end of the rope to the ghoul, giving up my life line. "Tie yourselves to the main mast! Now!"

The ghoul does not hesitate. I curl to a ball hanging onto the ratlines which I feel could snap at any moment. I try to conjure up ain infusion spell with the ship's harness but another wind interrupts forcing the Sagra forward. I feel a pull downwards but my fingers remain gripping the rope ladder. The engines burst and rotate, lugging the entire vessel backwards breaking the acceleration. Elias has pulled the breaks in the control room.

Sneezes is the first out of the cabin hold and he hangs on to a banister. I hear him call for Elias. The captain orders the sneevil to tie life lines and secure all sails. The sneevil scrambles across the deck with another sneevil I have not seen before. They trail a rope behind them and work their fingers along the pulleys that held the main sail. My muscles tense as another jet of wind tries to pull me away from the lines. Reminded, I cautiously drag myself down to safety.

The sails are tied to a main pole at the front with the help of the pulley system. Sneezes and his friend hold on to the mainmast with their life lines. They see me stepping off the rope ladder and one of the sneevils throw me a line with a bewildered expression, like he's facing a monster. I catch it ignoring his stare. The back of my neck starts to burn and my head pounds with sudden dizziness.

Something slices the air almost cutting my wrist. A silver blade zooms by and hits the metal rail across from me. Like rogue training, I instinctively duck in case the enemy has more throwing daggers. My headache stops and I peer over the edge rail hoping to find an enemy aircraft. Unexpectedly, the night sky is unperturbed. Nothing. Can't be. I look deeply into the darkness to see if anything is veiled behind it. Nothing. But there is something or someone who threw a dagger at us.

The sneevil beside Sneezes mutter something to him, I can barely hear. "Her eyes was a glowin' Sneezes, Shocky sawr it! Like Shocky's candle flames an' light bulbs. Shocky's scared!"

Sneezes, clinging to his life line, glances at me. He flicks his friend's head, "she's a mage, remember?" _With glowing eyes like light bulbs?_ I feel my neck suddenly burning with heat. My head throbs like machine guns are blasting inside it. I shriek, holding my head with both hands; now my stomach squeezes making me nauseous. Last night, the dream with the kalestri dog and the elf, flashes in my brain.

A second later, I hear Elias call out but his voice is muffled by another gust of wind. The Sagra Leon lurches back to break the incoming might. My head bumps the rail and the concussion stops the throbbing inside. This time, the winds remain entombing us in a belly of air pressure. The floors quake and we feel the ship rising. The ship is rapidly gaining altitude, pushed by the ferocious storm below. I hang on to the shiny rail, which seems slippery all of a sudden.

Someone calls my name. A red lighting erupts followed by a hard clashing noise of thunder. Again, I hear my name. Greg is calling me over the airstream.

The lightning sprouts from my mother's deft hand movements. A continuous flush of electricity sizzled to the front atmosphere. I manage to find her target. Floating above us are two black clouds in the shape of eyes. The eyes belong to a funnel cloud, swaying its spinning body. I hear a piercing noise coming from its hollow mouth - the elemental is screaming. It pushes us further up to the atmosphere beyond.

People's lungs cannot adapt at the speed of the sudden altitude change. Air pressure is beginning to suffocate our lungs. I breathe heavily with effort. We're running out of oxygen. I need to help my mother with the storm, but I can barely speak with the air choking my voice.

Half-kneeling, I create a lightning. It slithers out of my hand and sparks red, the electric serpent crouches back ready to strike. I angle my arms towards the demonic tornado and release. The bolt hits the elemental knocking it back. Unlike my mother's continuous lightning, my serpent vanishes after its strike. Respiring with difficulty, I fall back, ignoring the outraged wind monster.

Crouching low to keep her contact with the wind elemental, my mother's red lightning chain whips the wind-manipulating monster and tangles it in a constricting grip. The monster's control weakens. Finally surrendering, it dissipates. It howls for the final time and releases the airship.

For a nanosecond the airship remains calmly in mid air and the more dangerous part happens. The bow dips low and Sagra Leon plummets downward at alarming speed.

The gravitational pull is immensely powerful, the sneevils are thrown back and Croup and the dwarf fly up, clinging on their lines for dear life. My mother who stood her ground hits the wall of the stern, Greg pinned behind her and I slide across the deck with the line around my waist to secure myself. I do not see Elias behind the wheel in fact the wheel is alone and frozen.

Sagra Leon's weight shifts abruptly, the back stern speeds pass the bow of the ship and an explosive boom stops it from going down further. The front of the ship is no longer pointing to the earth. It levels with the horizon, steadying itself. The crew exhales with relief.

A grumpy complaint is heard from the crow's nest. Croup's head pops up from the lookout and a dwarf's frizzy hair appears beside him. "Get off you green baboon. What are you doin' here?" So much for sighting trouble, the dwarf did nothing but sleep throughout the entire event.

Mother lies unconscious in Greg's arms. He sees me and I give him a thumbs up to tell him I'm all right, just a little unsteady from the adrenaline rush.

Everyone feels queasy after the parabolic drop, except Elias. He is nowhere. A horrible thought rushes to my mind. I remember he wore no harness to secure him to the ship. I get up only to hear a cry of relief from the control room.

"Argh! Let's do that again!" cries the captain, exhilarated. He takes off his goggles and brushed beads of sweat from his dark hair. He grins at me as if nothing happened. I raise an eyebrow at him and I could not resist a smile.

The ship calms quietly again until a stomping noise resonates from the kitchen.

"Whoever shuffled my cooking will certainly pay!" The door bursts a stout man in a white chef suit with a wooden spoon appears.

"Where is it?" Furious, he waves the wooden spoon in rage. "Where is it?"

I step out of his way, his face and apron filthy from the mess made by the ship's activity. His mood changes seeing my mother in Greg's arms, his lips pout and his shoulders droop."I am really sorry, Sir Sabor, but -" he surveys the mess "-dinner is delayed."

At that moment, almost everyone's shoulders droop in unison.


	8. Chapter 8: Dinner at Paris

**Chapter 8: Dinner at Paris**

Barely anyone mentions the suspicious appearance of the wind elemental. Everyone is occupied with thoughts of food. We enter the glorious Sagra Leon dining room and the table is all ready prepared with plenty of appetizers and organized silverware.

"Should've seen Shocky's face!" says Sneezes. "He was almost cryin'."

"Shocky was a cryin' Sneezes," pouts the sneevil sitting beside him, deflated.

"Crying?" I ask them, "I figure you have encountered these beasts before."

"A few flights ago, Miss," Sneezes answers. "We've encountered only birds and vultures, wind elementals 'r usually north 'round - "

"Arcangrove," I finish. I take a seat next to Croup; the ghoul is already filling his plate with meaty appetizers. "Isn't that a bit strange?"

"Not really, Miss," Shocky responds, his pout disappears and his ears perk hearing the sound of clanging dishes. "Shocky says, we've got misunderstandings with Canegrove's."

"It's Arcangrove, Shocky," corrects Sneezes. "_Arcangrove._"

"Shocky thinks 'Rcangrove's got mages everywhere, simply loungin' 'round. Not really doin' much with the war, Miss. They're not choosin' sides."

The mages aren't choosing sides? Arcangrove is known for their highly respected necromancers, wizards and magical creatures and they are not choosing a side - _have not yet chosen _a side? I wrinkle my brow at the information. Once I am assigned in my position in the war I'll march up to Arcangrove and see what they're sitting around for.

The chef enters carrying two dishes of turkey rolls. He reminds me of Tess, how they cook and serve their customers at the same time. His entire suit is still messy from earlier but he does not look bothered. The chef cheerfully adds the plate on the already-filled table. He takes out a handkerchief and watches us eat his delicious cooking.

"Oh my goodness! This is the first time a lot of chairs are occupied," Croup points out. The royal dining table seat my mother, Greg, two sneevils, a dwarf, Croup, Elias and me. I have a feeling that this table can extend and sit more people.

Elias sits on the far front gleaming, his plate filling with grapes, seafood delicacies and drumsticks. "Too bad some of our guests are not here to enjoy tonight's feast."

"Who are we missing?" I wonder, taking a spoon full of soup.

"Lord Pierce and Lady Owen," replies my mother. At the corner of my eye, Elias chokes on his wine. My mother continues, gracefully picking her food, "Lord Pierce will join us tomorrow. We'll be at Cornelius Ruins tomorrow. I believe Elias' mother will join us after that."

Before dinner, mother's healing powers restored her health and with etiquette, she puts a fork full of food in her mouth excusing herself. She is so poised, I always feel clumsy when I am around her, like I miss to do something.

"I almost forgot about my mother," groans Elias.

"You never mentioned her," I say to him.

"Trust me; she's not someone you'd want to meet. Lady Owen divorced my father and ran off with the richest man in Greengaurd."

"So, let me guess, your father's projects are funded by this certain connection?"

He grins. "You're smarter than you look, Violet Scar."

The food seems to go one forever, from steamy vegetable pasta to boiled lobster. It surprises me to find the entire table set and tidy like the shaking of the ship never disturbed it. I ask how the chef made it possible to put together the dinner so fast.

"A whole lot of noggins, mademoiselle," says the chef pointing to his temple. He takes Croup's empty plate and blinks at me with smiling eyes. "Would you like to see the Noggins?"

I look at him, confused. The chef whistles, holding out the stack of empty plates. A steam-powered waiter exits the kitchen and speeds back inside with the empty dishes.

"A robot." I sit intrigued at the door where the robot disappeared to.

"A robot," repeats the chef with a breath of joy.

"Show her another trick, Chef Paris," says Greg, putting an empty goblet of wine on the table. "He took us to Skullhome, this afternoon. And he served draconian graham crackers for snacks."

Greg's merriment lifts my spirit. It has been a slow progress for technology to update and develop throughout Lore.

After the Age of Heroes, everyone felt like time slowed for many years. There was no progress throughout Battleon, Skygaurd, Sandsea and even Arcangrove. No new invention enlightened spirits because the world was webbed in the Cold War. Greg told me the story of the first war that happened. The heroes were still alive. Great Paladin allied forces and they conquered over the Okaran Army. Lady Okara was the woman who led the great warfare that tore respect and honour from the elfin kind all over the east. Following Okara, my mind is still puzzled. I forget to ask Greg for more about the previous wars.

I know that after the heroes left the world the Cold War descended. People grew conservative to traditional ways, hoping for things to go back to normal. They feared - and still fear - dramatic change. Sadly their behaviour continues to fuel the Cold War.

Only a few tweaks and technological turns developed at Skygaurd throughout the years, though they are unwilling to share these new developments.

Chef Paris claps his hands and the robotic contraption rolls into the room again, wheels squeaking. "Take us to the Faeries," says the chef, joyfully.

The robotic waiter turns to the open window and flips a switch. Instantaneously, the view of the outside is covered with an opaque shell and a background of ChiralValley's forest is projected. It looks as if the ship landed in the middle of the FaerieForest during daybreak.

The robot flicks a switch by the wall dimming the lights. It zooms to a corner of the room and starts pressing buttons on a lock. A slot on the wall opens revealing candles and extra table decor. The robot takes out candelabras and places the scented candles along a buffet table and lights them. It wheels its way to another wall compartment and takes out a violin. It starts to play music on the background.

Everyone cheers; some looking at the projected view of the beautiful forest outside, while others raise their glass to the robot waiter. The waiter does not see the acknowledgements, nor does it interact with the fellow guests. Apparently, it functions when commanded by Chef Paris alone, says so on the plate on its head underneath the name "Noggins".

"Noggins" turns out to be a name of the mechanical robotic service along the dining room. I notice an array of slots along the walls of the room and a mechanical system on the ceiling and window frame. The fellow waiter is part of the entire system.

"That is remarkable," I say to the chef, amazed at the surrounding contraption. Outside the window is the grandeur of FaerieForest with all of its glorious trees and rays of sunlight. The projected background is very detailed and realistic, from the smallest dandelions flying by the breeze to the rushing waterfall farther ahead.

The ceiling's gear system clinks and mini wall projectors rotate above the table. Each flashes holograms of faerie creatures that start fluttering above us. Utterly speechless, my jaw drop at the sight.

"Say the word, mademoiselle, and I shall take you there!" cheers the jolly chef. "Oh, this instalment also helps us communicate with people from far off places." He adds, patting his waiter on the head. "The window can act like a telephone, able to send video messages. And the dining table can decline and hide underneath the floor for extra room space. My waiter, Noggins, helps me serve and cook every gourmet dish. This hardwired room is brilliant for an astounding dinner and for a meeting place, mademoiselle!"

"They do not call him Paris for nothing," says Elias, expertly cutting his steak. "They call him Paris, for rustbucketing."

Sneezes snorts. "Grow a funny bone, will ya, Cap?"

"Only for you, Sneez," retorts the bemused boy, picking out a broccoli from his dish.

The ghoul beside me pokes a hologram of a faerie. "These are beautiful faeries," says Croup, in an absent minded manner. "I feel like dancing…"

"Please not another one, Croup," chortles Elias.

* * *

After the hearty meal, I march up to the main deck. I have one more thing to do before I go to sleep. Elias offered to sleep at the cabin hold with the rest of his crew so that mother and I can sleep at the captain's room. I insisted to sleep in the cabin hold like everyone else but because Elias stressed the part that my mother and I are the only females in the ship I accept his offer.

The night sky blossom with twinkling stars and the crew are all snug beneath the gun deck. The ship is set on course, travelling at a slower pace than usual at automatic mode.

Everyone is asleep except Croup who joins me wearing pyjamas with fluffy clouds printed all over it. He comes up from behind me scuffing the floors with his trimmed claw feet. No wonder he likes mopping, he's making marks all over the deck with the short talons on his toes.

I brightly comment. "Nice PJs, Croup." I think I'll buy him bunny slippers to match with them.

The shivering demon wraps his baggy colourful top around his body. "Thank you. Are you nocturnal too?" he adds, curiosity glowing in his eyes.

"No. I'm just getting something before I go to bed."

"Like a blanket? We have plenty of blankets stored around here," he cheerily replies, skipping to the control room. "Oh. They're not here. Maybe they're in the bathrooms...but then, what would they be doing there? Let's ask the captain …"

"It's all right, Croup." I laugh quietly. My eyes catch the sight of the silver blade that was thrown at the ship earlier. I yank the dagger out of the metal rail and examine it. Tomorrow, Elias is going to have a fit about the random slice on the rail.

The dagger's hilt is bonded with rough purple leather. Its blade curves in a J-shape and it has a purple jewel glued on its end sculpting a dragon similar to the one on my cheek. _This is magnificent dagger, _I think.

I weigh it on my palm and toss the weapon up only to drop it and lick my finger. The dagger is shaped for a master's hand and I almost cut my finger playing with it. I stop the small cut using a simple healing spell. My finger glowed and I pretend to be an extraterrestrial in front of Croup. He doesn't get my joke, but stares at me ominously.

"You're eyes are glowing," he tells me.

I thought it was a compliment until I pick up the strange blade to check my reflection. My eyes are like glowing purple spheres. I gasp and almost drop the blade again. During the incident with the wind elemental Shocky and Sneezes said it was a mage trick but there is something more to this. Last night, Bog and the elf must have given me something. But the event with Bog was a dream, wasn't it? My eyes never glowed like this before that whole affair.

"I better get going." I feel my mouth tremble as I absently walk to the captain's quarters carrying the unusual blade. The door closes behind the ghoul's concerned face.

* * *

I feel a surge of energy flow through me, making me nauseous. I toss and turn on the mattress, breathing hard and soaking in sweat.

My body shrinks and I feel a pierce in my stomach. I loose control of my mouth that started to speak strange words._ "I found you."_ I do not understand what I am saying and I could not stop myself. Controlled inside and squirming in pain I roar, _"I have her, I have her!" _Mystified, I can feel my eyes swirling under my eyelids as if they're looking for an escape. A high pitched laugh vibrates through my vocal chords.

At a start, I jump out of the cover of blankets. My pulse slows down. I look around to check the time. It is after midnight. My mother sleeps soundlessly on the bed veiled by a curtain. I go outside to take a breath of fresh air. As I close the door of the captain's quarters, my bare feet drag me into the dinning room without thinking.

I am half asleep, unarmed and unprepared for the sight of Bog standing on the table. He is growling, hair bristling. All of his eyes are open, illuminating brightly like the swirls along his fur. I hear myself scream as the kalestri dog leaps on me. I land on the ground, grass and ferns cover my face. Bog's five-eyed stare etch in my mind before my vision cave in to gloom.


	9. Chapter 9: Stranger Hound

**Chapter 9: Stranger Hound **

The moist of dew tickles my nose. It is morning and the bed of leaves and mud feels surprisingly soft. I am looking at the foot of a shrub when I realize I am not myself. My ears perk to a sudden rustle of leaves. Someone's coming. I get up noiselessly noticing an extra pair of legs attached below my rib cage. I gasp, but a whimper comes out of my mouth. Am I in Bog's body?

I blink to check my vision. No five-eyes. Just normally functioning, like usual. I glance around, suspicious of my surroundings. The air is cool under the shade and the sun is blazing above the palm leaves. I start lolling my tongue out.

Bog's ears –my ears- start to itch. He scratches – lifting my hind leg up to scratch my ear. How humiliating. I need an explanation and this dog is not helping. I feel my tail wag at the people approaching. I urge myself to retreat with the use of magic but Bog is being stubborn. He doesn't move, so I don't move. My spell casting diffuses inside the dog's body, like a dead matchstick unable to cooperate at every strike.

I try to speak but I only hear barks coming from my voice chamber. "Bog, what is this? Why am I a dog? What have you-?" His barking gets louder as I struggle to make words. Bog fights me to stop. He shakes his head, making me get a headache. He starts to growl and I can feel the low crawl of sound through my lungs.

"You've come to join us!" A familiar voice resonates from the approaching figures. Bog's eyes turn to them so I can see the newcomers enter the clearing. It surprises me to see the elf boy from the previous night stage into the clearing.

"Ah, there you are." His eyes sparkle at the sight of Bog. I prepare to lunge and maybe use Bog's claws to attack but the dog does not move. The hound is treating me like a marionette and he's the puppet master. I quit trying to bite the elf's hand patting me. Bog's tongue lolls out and I feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment. At least I'm inside the hound unseen.

"Roan," another elf boy appears. "I thought you told Bog to stay where he was. You now he's not suppose to-"

"To tag along with us, I know Dragonfly," says the one I met last night. "You should give him a break after all that service at the inn." I suppose his name is Roan while the curious one is named Dragonfly. By their appearance these guys must be drows, the eastern elves of the mountains.

The two of them wear the same sort of armour, stealthy leather, belt across and dark boots and gloves. Each of them has dull greyish skin, sleek white hair and purple eyes. Roan wears a red scarf around his neck familiarly from my dream which I now believe actually happened.

Another drow joins them, the stocky elf calls for their attention about an airship moving northward. They follow the third drow across the forest. It seems like we're at Sandsea, travelling in a dry forest near the oasis.

Bog trails beside Roan. The smell of fresh sharp metal catches my nose. Roan is armed with sword and dagger and I see the glint of a purple shaped dragon jewel attached to each end of their hilts. This dagger is so similar to the one I have.

"Roan, you're endangering the mission by taking that dog." Dragonfly exclaims, halting his friend to stop in his tracks. "I'm serious," he adds, boldly. "First you plan to fly us to ChiralValley and now you're taking a kalestri with you?"

Dragonfly does not have the same stature as Roan. He has a meek look on his scarred face. Unlike his friend, he has shaggy white hair and paler grey skin. Dragonfly looks so innocent, compared to Roan the mysterious, that I almost feel sorry for him.

We stop in the patch of green farther from the desert city. Roan casts Dragonfly a questioning stare - a look that would question the most absolute masterminds. "The dog's not going to jump on you," says the drow firmly. Bog licks his hand and I can feel my dignity drop. "See? Nothing but a bright eyed hound, he is. And he doesn't bite, which is a bonus. He must be escorting us out of here."

"It's not that, Roan and you know it." Dragonfly stands his ground. "Kalestris are mysterious creatures with magic. I hear they have a bark that echoes. People never have kalestris as pets. They go mental. Look at him! I thought he only opens one pair of eyes, now two? Don't you find that creepy? Suspicious, at least? I reckon, he's trying to mesmerize us. Maybe his mind might merge to ours in our sleep."

Roan shakes his head. "I've heard of those stories, Drag, and come on. Telepathic dogs? What next, flying pigs? Pretty soon you'll have robot chickens around here."

Dragonfly tiredly drops the argument.

The drows take Bog through the forest, bounding through the palms. They are running to a particular direction. Bog looks up to see a familiar vessel drift northward. The drows dash across the desert vegetation keeping an eye on the speck above them. The airship looks awfully familiar. I shriek at the sight of the Sagra Leon leaving without me. Bog whimpers and Roan catches the noise.

"Shush, kalestri," the drow orders, "let's not get that lady chasing after you." He must be talking about Tess, the innkeeper. "Keep quiet Bog and…" his voice lowers to a whisper as he slows down to run by the dog's side. "Quit thinking about her. Your eyes are a giveaway all ready." What does he mean by that? Dragonfly's words pound in my head, _his mind might merge to ours in our sleep? _

I suddenly rearrange a timeline in my mind. So if Bog took off, after he saw me board Sagra Leon that morning, he followed these three drows to chase after the airship. He took me here to show me the unexplained events that occurred during the time I was aboard Sagra and before one of Roan's daggers flew across the ship. Kalestri hounds are known for abilities like this and Bog must have heightened this particular telepathic communication for his master. Something must have happened during this time period that he has bought me to this moment to witness and Roan knows about me inside Bog.

The group push forward, zooming through the thinning forest of the desert. Bog follows closely behind, at least I don't have to expel out a serious amount of air. Riding inside Bog has its advantages.

"Halt!" cries the big drow in the group and I still don't know his name. "I suggest we take a different route, Roan. There is barely any cover from here and onward."

They stop at the ends of the desert vegetation. Further at a distance the tundra starts with little shade cover. I guess they're trying to be hidden from the eyes of the ship above. Another shadow looms over us. The drows disappear in the blink of an eye. Bog sniffs the air and finds Roan and his friends behind bushes. They're fast, sneaky devils, I muse.

The new aircraft lands before us and this one looks peculiar. Bog looks pass the ship's ink black sails and I can see cloud cover high above. Cumulous clouds. This must be the strange ship beneath the tree-looking cloud, Croup and I saw. The vessel is not from Skygaurd but the design is similar, only painted in black.

The drows are completely hidden among the vegetation, while they watch the ship land. Sand and dust fly in every direction as the black vessel's engines fume out ballast. The belly gently touches the sandy surface. Bog settles beside Roan, silently panting after the sprint. Roan caresses the dog's ears and lowers his head. Dragonfly gestures him to retreat back. But Roan ignores, anxiously gazing at the opening hull of the airship.

A tall man in a god-like cloak emerge from the ship and with him a band of soldiers in silver and purple. Great, more drows, I say to myself seeing the man's pointed ears and greyish skin and fine white hair. The tall drow is armed. His guards empty the ship with sheathed sabres. The guards line up along the perimeter of the ship and their leader studies the surrounding land.

Roan stirs, ignoring Dragonfly's silent protests, he comes into view. "Lord Kurreon," he says, pacing to the guarded party. The guards automatically point their sabres at Roan who puts his hands up, a motion to talk peacefully.

The tall drow called Lord Kurreon hesitates. "Aren't you supposed to be busy looking for a mythical creature?" His eyes lower to half slits.

"Aren't you supposed to be at ChiralValley, my Lord?" The guards lower their weapons as Roan enters the circle.

Lord Kurreon strides back to his ship. "I am well aware that I have trespassed neutral ground," he says. "But I have a good excuse for it." He raises a hand, signalling the guards to go back inside. The drows in an organized line re-enter their vessel, sheathing their sabres. "My mind slipped," says the lord, animated.

Roan is not easily fooled. "You're planning an invasion," the young drow claims, just as the lord's boot steps into the open entrance of his ship. The lord abruptly turns and walks up to Roan, scattering dust as he moves.

Lord Kurreon explodes with demand. "Where is your rogue party?" he snarls.

Roan does not move.

"You tell your little friends, to say nothing of this. As for your purposeless mission -" the lord swings, like a lightning flash his sword hits another blade. Lord Kurreon's eyes widen at the sight of a dagger intersecting his blade to Roan's throat.

Their eyes lock ready to battle. Lord Kurreon hastily shoves Roan aside with a bone-cracking kick, throwing the young drow to the ground. Roan hits the sand like a broken toy, his fists and teeth clenched from the squeezing pain in his stomach.

The lord spits, "your potential is wasted, Roan du Torqué. I should pity you. Why keep looking for something that does not exist?" The man leaves, sending more dust to Roan's direction with the whip of his robe. He climbs to his ship, sheathing his sword.

Lord Kurreon's black vessel disappears to the skies heading east. Dragonfly runs to his companion's side the moment the ship vanished. He calls the third drow named Berthyur to help him pull Roan to the cool shade of trees.

"You wise-crackin', git!" shouts Dragonfly pulling Roan up to a sitting position to a palm tree. "Could've gotten yourself killed! I mean - EVERYONE KILLED."

"I just wanted to know what he's up to," groans Roan, hands clutching his stomach, silver hair shadowing his face. "I keep forgetting the fact that we have no healer."

Dragonfly rolls his eyes then he claims a shrub in the center and starts rubbing two stones beside it to light it on fire.

Bog comfortably crawls to Roan's side and leans his head to his chest. I can hear the drow's beating heart. Roan takes in a ragged breath and closes his eyes. Bog bends his head to sniff the weary drow, maybe to drain away the suffering. Something inside me wants to heal the boy, but I cannot conjure magic in Bog's body. I can't control the dog either. I sit back powerless. Contained in the dog's mentality I start thinking about an object called a fire hydrant - whatever that is.

"Hey! Kalestri, get off him!" Dragonfly almost kicks the dog aside.

"He's fine, Drag," huffs Berthyur. "Leave Roan and the mutt alone." The bigger drow throws in more sticks at the burning shrub. He sits near the fire and takes out the backpack he's been carrying.

Dragonfly grunts then yields to exhaustion. The evening has settled and chilly winds brush the desert surface.

The fire embers spark out of the pile of branches and leaves before them. Berthyur passes stale bread to Dragonfly who finishes it in mere seconds. He throws a piece to Bog who almost licks the sand clean. The drow offers half his bread to Roan. Roan's expression is incomprehensible and he refuses the snack. Bog is about to curl up beside his master when the expressionless drow gets up.

Roan stretches his limbs, yawning. He reaches for Berthyur's bag and starts to rummage through it.

"Ro?" asks the muscular giant. "Feelin' better already?"

Roan takes out a piece of pie and a genuine smile lights his face.

"Hey, that's for later!" whines Dragonfly. "If you're going to have some, give me some!"

"You did not steal it, I did!" claims Berthyur.

"Come and get it, gents." Roan holds up the bag and on one hand starts eating the slice of pie.

"That is technically not yours, Ro!" For a stocky fellow, Berthyur's bulk did not match his speed. He swings to one side of the agile drow and then swings again however he manages to clutch air at every attempt. "I-stole-it-from-that-kitchen!" At every tackle Roan gets the upper hand over their bulkiest comrade.

"I'm tellin' you to share!" Dragonfly leaps on Berthyur, thinking he's got the upper hand. The shorter drow jumps off of the bigger one and seizes what he thought was the pie at one instant, only rolling to the dust hugging air. Roan is much faster than them combined. I think it is rather amusing to watch trained elf warriors fight over pie.

"Are you two even trying?" says Roan, with one foot on a rock. His friends give up and slump back to their places, cursing.

"Forget it. I ain't fightin' for a piece of pie." Dragonfly indignantly crouches by the fire and warms his hands. "Nothing's worth my strength anymore."

Everyone goes quiet until only the crackle of fire is heard. The evening stars start to appear on the sky. An eerie howl sounds from a far distance and then it fades into silence again. I can hear myself – more like Bog - panting.

Roan interrupts the night with a question, "What do you mean, nothing's worth your strength anymore?" He tosses a small crumb of pie in the air and expertly catches it with his mouth.

"I don't know Roan," groans the shorter drow, tiredly, "it's this mission. We were sent to find someone that I'm not even sure exists. This morning you told us you saw her, but she did not have the scar. I bet all the lords are laughing at us. Are you still certain that this person exist? And if he or she does exist and we're on the right track then why are we following him or her like glow worms following the light? Why can't we show ourselves?"

"The thing you seek is right in front of you. All you have to do is look for it," replies Roan, looking at his last piece of pie.

"Doesn't answer my question," grumbles Dragonfly. "Sounds like you've been listening to too many songs from Mythsong."

Roan disregards his comment, "I don't know. I guess I'm not too sure why we haven't properly introduced ourselves to her. I wasn't too convinced that she was the half-blood until her eyes started glowing right when she saw me."

The two drows around the campfire sit paralyzed by Roan's words. Suddenly they burst into laughter. I feel myself shrink further inside Bog's body, heat flushes my cheeks. Roan does not look too pleased at his friends' behaviour.

It takes moments for them to finally calm down. "But are you sure she's the one?" asks Dragonfly, wiping a tear. "Does she fit the description?"

Roan tosses the bag to Berthyur's open palms. "Our mission is to find the girl with the zebra stripes, right Bert?"

"Right," gruff the big drow. Remembering the pie, Berthyur's shoulders fall holding the bag loosely.

Roan smirks. "Even if she had no scar her distinctive look helps us find her, right Drag?"

"Your point? Hurry up before I grow old here," complains Dragonfly.

Roan lies down under a palm tree, his back to the fire and his friends. "Bert, there's still some leftover pie in there."

Berthyur opens the bag and fishes out the pie but in between his fingers stuck a feather weight zebra extension.

"Well, blimey," Dragonfly sits up and takes the tuft of hair and examines it with all his senses.

"I know," scowls Berthyur, "it got on the pie, didn't it?" he engulfs the entire pastry before anyone answers.

"I meant the girl, big buddy," snaps Dragonfly, "we're so close to finishing what we've started! I honestly doubted you Roan…" The drow starts fiddling with the tuft of hair.

Bog whimpers. He suddenly stops panting and his alertness startles me. The kalestri hound trots up to Dragonfly.

"What's up, Bog?" chuckles the drow like the statement reminded him of a rabbit.

The kalestri starts barking at the drow like he was carrying a poisonous snake. Dragonfly scoots away from the frantic Bog who started to chase his own tail. "What in blazes?"

The dog is not making sense and that's coming from a person inside his brain. The hound stops his tail-tag then suddenly bites near the drow's fingers. "Holy jeebus!" swears the drow stumbling back. But the hound was not interested in Dragonfly's fingers. I can feel zebra extensions along Bog's jaws.

The dog chews it lightly and spits it out covering it with drool and slime. "I didn't know you want it that badly, stupid -" Before Dragonfly can finish Roan's gloved hand covers his mouth. Berthyur is suddenly in a fighting stance with an axe and Roan's other free hand unsheathes a dagger from his belt.

The three drows look to where the footsteps are getting louder until the darkness in the forest reveal a woman in bright red robes. Bog agitated, slinks behind Roan's legs. His paw buries the drool covered zebra extension, hiding it.

The woman walks up to us with a wide-eyed stare, extended fabric flutter behind her high-heeled footsteps. Her face is covered in hard core makeup, her eye shadows and lipstick makes her look beautiful and menacing at the same time. She gracefully walks up to the campfire, arms extended as if she is waiting for an embrace. No one moves. Her beautiful purple eyes and silvery white hair reveals to me her elfin blood. Another drow.

"Is this a way to welcome me boys, hm?" The woman's powdered face flinches to a smile. She starts laughing with high pitched giggles that makes Bog pull back his ears. The woman adjusts her glowing headdress of sun rays and swirls, as her laughter fades the drows shuffle with uneasiness.

"Hm…I hear you met Lord Kurreon just moments ago." She tilts her nose up and bats her eyelashes, her voice lowers. "So you have little excursions here and there, hm? And you bought a new pet, I see."

"The dog is a stray, my Lady." Roan controls the rising tension. "Let us part in peace."

One of the words makes the woman twitch with revulsion. She disappears from where she stood then with a blink of an eye she's on top of Roan, clutching one of his own daggers to his throat. He struggles to get up, but the woman holds him down to the sand with his blades.

Her high pitch voice squeaks again, "don't make a move, little friends." The drows break their charge. The woman leers. "Hm…I'd like to welcome our guest. _Chip, chip_!"

A deep growling noise sound through the shrubs and a pair of red eye balls dart across the thicket. Hair bristling, I feel Bog respond with his own growl though compared to the beast hiding beyond the forest, the new foe is larger. Bog freezes at the sight of the animal. The beast emerges, baring canines in a wolfish grin. I recognize the stature; it is one of the werewolf warriors from Darkovia. The werewolf brandishes a lycan blade and takes a step forward, eyeing the kalestri with scorn. Bog's eyes don't blink and inside I feel myself shrivel.

Berthyur and Dragonfly stand aside, knees bent as if their poses can help. Dragonfly gulps, his sabre shaking. "My Lady, we are not seeking trouble. Please, let us go?" pleads the younger drow his voice trembling, panic visible in his eyes.

"Bad soldiers," she whispers. The woman's face turn to her hostage under the two daggers held at his neck. "My, my. Hm." She brushes a truft of hair from his sweating forehead. "I can barely see fear in those eyes. Hm? A pity such a fine face is going to be scarred. Hm…" Roan tries to knee her off him but the woman presses his blades closer to his neck, choking him. Bog remains where he stands crouching and keeping an eye on the werewolf and his master.

"Hush, hush," says the woman, she leans closer to Roan's face and insidiously murmurs. "Du Torqué, any news of the person you're looking for, hm?" Her finger brushes his cheek, making him wince in pain. "Well? No news, hm? No? I know. The person does not exist, see? Hm?" Her cat-like eyes enlarge. "Oh…I see…" Her head leisurely turns to Bog.

She crawls to the motionless kalestri, like a cobra slithering to a suicidal mouse.

"You've got beautiful eyes don't you…hm? Four eyes. Yes…" Her words slur as she takes Bog's muzzle to observe him. "Yes…interesting…hm…" I feel my jaw warp in her skinny fingers. Needle-like nails pinching my skin, my connection with Bog's muzzle is making my chin bleed.

I can clearly see her stunning makeup glitter with gold and flare with beautiful intricate eyeliner that illustrated webs and small delicate flowers across her face. She looks like she is heading to a fancy One Eye Doll circus. Her powdered face is so pale, anyone can be fooled and claim her as a vampire, but her hands shine navy blue under the moonlight revealing her drow bloodline.

She inspects Bog's muzzle carefully like how a jewellery man would inspect a fake diamond. The dog tries hard to keep his growling to a minimum and his unsheathed paws tense to the ground.

"Silly, silly kalestri..." She gets up making _tsk tsk_ noise in her mouth, a hysterical laughter of high pitch giggles follow.

Roan gets up, breathing hard; maybe her weight almost suffocated him. _Or her intoxicating breath of pungent roses and blood did most of the suffocating_, I think. Roan reassembles, closing his fists around his dagger hilts. One side of his head is bleeding. The woman has dug one of her nails along his cheek.

"The kalestri is a stray, my Lady," he repeats to her, like she did not get the message in the beginning.

The woman laughs tilting her head back for dramatic emphasis. "Oh du Torqué, my drow, you make me laugh! Do you think I came here to make fun of you boys? No...hm." She devilishly smiles. "No. Hm...I came..." She points her fang-like fingers at me. "For this one!" I jump back, feeling Bog's side lurch. The dog remains still, tensing his muscles to make a run for it. The werewolf stalks toward us with blade in hand. "The one from the stories..." The woman finishes.

At that instant Bog's legs scramble to the nearest cover of shrubs, missing the swing of the great werewolf. Bog is gnarling; inside I feel trapped and helpless. I hear Roan's voice call for his friends to wrestle the lycan. He orders Bog to leave quickly, the dog hesitates and looks back at the scene in time to see one of Roan's daggers drive through the werewolf's flesh.

The woman's shriek nips my ears and her words ring in the air. "SILLY DROW! You are going to lose your little toy through me! Silly boy! Silly, silly boy!"

Bog turns to run while the werewolf is distracted by Dragonfly and Berthyur. The entire world starts to gloom. But voices ring in my ear.

"Where did you take it?" shouts Roan.

"To a silly human from your memory…Let's see if it hits her pulse!"

The dog hurtles through the sandy desert, sprinting to the direction of the oasis not turning back. "Go back! They're going to get killed!" I yell, but Bog howls. Across the horizon I see the town but Bog completely shuts his eyes, making me fall to an antique rug.

* * *

I touch my forehead discovering a bruise. My mother wakes up from behind the bed curtains. She casts a spell to illuminate the room with a soothing light and runs to me. I realize I fell off the bed where I was sleeping. I feel my muscles sorely aching, like I ran a hundred miles. I hear myself cry out for air. Mother places a hand on my head to heal my face, covered in small needle cuts and a swelling bruise.

Fatigued, I randomly scratch the back of my neck. I find pieces of candle wax fall to the floor.


	10. Chapter 10: So-called a Half-blood

**Chapter 10: So-called a Half-blood**

A kalestri connection is also known as a telepathic communication, explained my mother earlier while she was curing me. She told me that Bog did not time travelled, he simply gave me a memory that he recorded. He also projected the beginning encounter through my sleeping mind, just so he could reach me.

The sunrise is awakening to watch. I sit perched by the window sill, dressed in my trainer's suit to prepare for any early practice. My eyes are half-closed willing my body to fall asleep, but I resist. I do not want another unexpected kalestri connection.

This morning, mother insisted that I should take a nap before the meeting today but I refused. I even refused to learn how to conceal the symbol engraved on my cheek. She handed me a scroll of concealment and reluctantly left the room after our argument. Mother is currently outside talking to Greg of what happened.

I sit waiting for my step father to come through the door and then I stuff the scroll into my pants pocket. I do not feel ashamed of being a half-blood. In fact, I'm proud of it. Maybe my mother is still trying to protect me from the public eye like she used to.

I hear footsteps above me as the ship's crew grow active on board, preparing to anchor above Cornelius Ruins. I hear the sneevils give orders, the dwarf grumbling in response and I could barely hear Croup. He must be pondering around. I can barely hear mother's conversation with Greg, seems like they're whispering.

The bones in my body pop while I stretch. Bog's telepathic communication truly affected my entire system. I keep wondering about the three drows, Lord Kurreon, werewolf and the woman that I last saw. Roan's dagger sits before me, taunting me to toss it or throw it at the wall.

It belongs to the drow and here I am keeping it for myself. Deep inside, I feel the need to return it to its owner. I wonder if they got away from the dreadful lady last night. I shake away dreadful thoughts.

Now I understand how this weapon got to me. The woman has teleported it to the person that was in Roan's recent memory. I am the person that he met prior to the event that unfolded, besides the drows.

I let out a weary sigh. Almost everything I thought about drows in my mind is jumbled up after Bog showed me what they're like. Some are just like us, rogues set forth on a mission. While others, like the lord and the woman, corrupt their reputation to hold power over the rest.

Greg bursts through the doorway, starling me. "Are you well? I can cancel our session today."

I give him a warm embrace. "I'm all right. Please don't cancel sword training," I say despairingly.

He rests a hand on my right cheek feeling the tattoo with his thumb. I have to tell him of my dreams. I did not tell my mother details because I am more comfortable with Greg. Surely, he'll tell me more about the eastern drow lords.

He looks me over and notices the healing bruise on my forehead. "You look normal," he smiles. "Okay. Pack your favourite weapons and prepare for any rogue exercise. Meet us down below first."

"Down below?"

"Yes. Down at the Ruins; the meeting with Lord Pierce," he answers. "You're sister will be waiting."

He sees my face light up at the mention of Latoya Sabor. She is Greg's other daughter and my half-sister. Latoya and her twin brother Jude have the same dark hair and grey eyes as Greg. Last time I saw them was on Greg's wedding day with my mother and that was seven years ago. During the years Greg remained with them while my mother and I travelled. When he decided to stay with my mother he started training me. Now it has been months after he last visited his twins.

"Your mother and I are heading down to Cornelius Ruins through sphere, which…" he sees me groan, "I know you're not fond of. I need you to eat and wash up. You've got friends to meet and important people to see."

"Wait, Greg!" _I have to tell you something_, I say in my mind.

"What is it, Arakelle?" His expression hides a panic.

I ask, softly. "What did my mother tell you?"

Greg settles on the lounge chair. "Tess's dog telepathically communicated with you last night. Your mother told me that you weren't yourself while you slept. And…she noticed your eyes glowing when you were peeling off candle wax from your neck. Apparently, someone had pulled a candlewick spell on you to protect your location and to ideally hide you from any suspicious eastern lords. But the candle wax is fading…and so is your safety." He wrinkles his brows. The information burdens him.

"I did not tell her of what happened in my dream while I was in Bog," I say.

"Which is bothering her," continues the man. He sees the unusual dagger I hold out to him.

"Bog showed me the events that occurred during our time at the ship. During the wind elemental's attack a dagger came out of thin air and almost hit me."

"A _Drakeaius Dagge_r," he exhales, beguiled by the weapon. "You've seen drows didn't you?"

I nod, dropping my gaze to the floor. Absently, I tie the hilt of the dagger to my belt.

"Arakelle, listen to me," Greg whispers, "did you see any drow lords in your kalestri connection last night?"

"One called Lord Kurreon and a woman that looked powerful but her name wasn't mentioned. They only called her, _my lady_. But I think she has a more sinister title." I tell him. I refrain to tell Greg and formerly my mother about my previous, uncontrollable state before I encountered Bog. That piece of the puzzle will upset them even more because it must have something to do with the menacing woman that the drows encountered. My step father's face froze like a rock has hit his head. "Greg…what's wrong?"

Greg clears the room rapidly. He throws me a few words over his shoulder. "I'm going to talk to Lord Pierce." The door shuts behind him and I sit there paralyzed. Knowing Greg, he will only leave a conversation when there is something utterly terrible in the topic.

* * *

I head out to the corridor, feeling unsteady after talking to my step father. The smell of bread toast and chocolate flow through my nose, taking my mind off of my dream, I stop at the doorway of the dining room. Someone is inside, talking with an unfamiliar person. I keep quiet to eavesdrop.

"When I get to Skygaurd, do remind me to wring your neck," says the voice of the captain.

A sinister reply follows. "Continue to disregard my rank Captain Crowe. It is convenient we establish a meeting with the girl. I believe everyone in Greengaurd is up to date with your guest."

"I would like her consent you little brat," mutters Elias.

"Why yes," replies the ominous voice, "her consent is crucial. Retrieve her for me."

"Is that a demand I hear? You're not bossing me around, little primate." Elias is slouching on a classy chair behind a small round glass table where a small vase of daisies decorate the middle. An elegant teacup and a plate of toast are set in front of him and he's enjoying his impolite behaviour towards the person projected on the window sill. Surprisingly, his words are coated with an offensive tone. "Oh dear, I'm getting static on the monitors." Elias makes a buzzing noise and reaches for what looks like a viewing remote. "Sorry, but I'll just call you later."

I open the door wider to take a peek at his receiver, expecting someone so vile. But to my surprise, the screen displays a ten-year-old-boy with sleek blonde hair, flawless smooth baby face and large blue eyes. Why is Elias bullying this kid?

"Little devil," grumbles Elias. I am impressed at how discourteous he is towards such a bewildered boy, but his behaviour raises questions.

"I shall inform mother of your unprofessional behaviour towards me. And I detect no interfering frequencies in my computer. There is no static. So remain silent as I speak, Captain," orders the boy, grimacing.

"Go on, please hurry up." Elias sets his teacup down, he shrugs with impatience. "There you go, I said please."

The boy's eyes flutter to the doorway. "Someone's at the door."

Elias does not turn to look instead he smiles, stirring his cup of tea. "Come in," he says emotionless.

I hesitate. Chef Paris, sitting next to the kitchen doorway claps his hands and the robotic waiter appears and places another chair beside Elias. I reluctantly take a seat. The robot appears again serving a glass of juice and a plate of toast with a friend egg in the middle. Beside me Elias sips his tea.

"Glad of you to join us, unexpectedly," mumbles the young captain, looking at his teacup as if a fly landed on it.

The boy tunes a knob, making his voice sound his age. "I am addressed as Prince Piotr Owen, Lady…?" greets the projected boy on the window, politely ending his sentence with a question for my name.

"Arakelle," I say. It is uncomfortable to eat with the big headed boy, watching you through a window. _Technically projected on the window,_ I correct myself.

"The lovely Lady Arakelle dur Gahl," gasps the boy, "a pleasure to finally acquaint you. I look forward to meet you in person once you visit my humble abode. You are looking beautiful this wonderful morning. And what a beautiful mark!" he quickly adds, spotting the image on my cheek. Flattered, I assure myself that there is nothing to hide about my mark, but I should consider hiding my blush. "Sorry for my squinting. Crowe has not properly adjusted the lighting in the room has he?"

I start eating my toast, stuffing my mouth with bread to not say a word.

"Now to business," snaps the child, brushing a hand through his hair. "Did you know that I supervised the construction for this ship? I even hold a few finances and insurances to fund it for Crowe. Wonderful vessel and I hope you enjoying your stay. I will see to it that your voyage to Greengaurd is safe and secure."

The monologue seems to annoy Elias.

Prince Owen continues, sweeping a gaze at the captain. "I contacted Elias Crowe, for any status on the ships condition. I even talked to him if his passengers are flying well. After the momentary attack of a wind elemental, I see you've managed. However, I shall inspect this ship once it arrives here. A thorough cleanup should do…" The prince fixes his collar. "Sorry, if you're holding out on applause on my extended vocabulary - I am, indeed, highly recognized and top listed in my class - a prince like me is highly educated, you know - I'm not sure of Mr. Crowe's standards." He flicks imaginary dust from his shoulder. "Oh see this seal?" He shows off a purple emblem on his suit. "It is my own logo, which I proposed to distribute throughout the Secret Order, since I am one of the administrators of the guild. Once my proposal is permitted then…"

The boy is more conceited than Elias. I want to say something witty, but I hold my tongue. This so-called Prince is starting to revamp my hostile nerves. The captain massages his temples; he is certainly trying hard to tolerate this child.

The Prince's voice trails off and I lose my attention. He's beginning to criticize furniture and high-class education, boring me with his opinions. I drink the juice slowly, keeping my mouth to the glass.

As the Prince is consumed by his talk about mansions and inventions Elias whispers, "let me introduce you to my half-brother." I almost choke on my drink. The young captain's half brother is a prince?

Hiding my anger from the child on the screen, I scowl at Elias, "You did not mention him or your family relation to royalty. Like your mother."

"You didn't ask. Besides, I don't like talking about my mother and this particular brat."

I glare at him. "So you're a half-prince?"

"It looks like we have something in common, Little Miss Half-blood." His icy blue eyes narrow and a conniving smile slowly appear across his face.

I lower my voice, "you two clearly have a family resemblance."

Elias leans closer, "and what is that?"

"Pride." Looking away from his cold stare, I finish a buttered toast.

Prince Owen clears his throat for wanted attention. "So, tell me something about yourself, Arakelle." The way he says my name sends a shiver down my spine.

I ignore the royal child and get up carrying my empty plate and glass. Minding my manners, I cast a blank look at the child on the screen and curtsy. I hear Elias's laughter as I walk up to Chef Paris who sat by his kitchen entrance in a jolly state.

The cook taps the door behind me as I stand before him. "A problem with breakfast?"

"No," I say to him, earnestly. "I just what to thank you for it." I hold out my empty plate and glass. The robot wheels out of the kitchen but before it rolls away, I say, "Thank you for the breakfast, Noggins." I glance at the beaming chef and nod. He looks like he's about to cry again. I turn and leave the room without glancing at Elias or his royal brother.

* * *

The deck is mopped as usual._ Obviously by a ghoul's doing_, I say in my mind as I almost slip across the floorboard. Croup is in a deep version with Sneezes at the rudder control. The ship hovers above a fog with the morning dew frosting the rails. At a distance, the pointed top of the stone ruins peek over the white cloud of mist.

"Shocky says to jus' step on it, Miss," instructs Shocky, tying a knot of ropes along a pulley. The sneevil steps aside and presses a botton on the edge of the teleportation plate. "This button Shocky's pressin' will activate the portal, Miss."

I leave my bag of weapons nearby. It packs an extra sheath of arrows, broad sword, whip and the two knives I used with the camels the other day. Greg told me to prepare for an exercise this morning but not for the meeting. I sling a quiver of arrows around me and just in case I stumble upon unwanted creatures. Something swings loosely along my belt - it's Roan's dagger - I quickly tie another strap to hold it steady.

Bow in hand, I step on the blue portal plate waiting for it to launch. I barely make it to the center of the plate when the air around me changes to fog. I cough out a sudden intake of mist and take a step off the platform to look around.

Sagra Leon sits aloft, casting a grey shadow across the foggy field of green. I blink at the teleporter to see if anyone else is joining me. Croup appears tripping off the portal platform. I help him up.

"Thank you," says the ghoul, "honestly, sneevils must be introduced to roller bags, you know the ones with the little wheels?"

"Sneevils thrive with boxes," I say.

"I was packing up boxes," smiles Croup, "filled with frog cookies and chocolate. We'll be making more s'mores!"

"Seriously?"

"For a bonfire later this evening," he adds, "I left them all back at the ship with Sneezes." Croup brushes off grass from his pants. "I'm rather excited. Oh look!" Looking up, he points to a direction in the fog, showing a figure running towards us.

I barely have my bow ready when the figure squeals, "They're here, Latoya!"

Another voice sounds from a distance."Well, what are you waiting for Kendra get her over hear before the stupid gate closes!" A boom echoes through the mist. "Never mind…"

The approaching girl bounds forward. She reaches us and I almost jump back at the hand holding out to me. "Name's Kendra Lance," she grins, "A rogue and friend to Latoya Sabor, I know you know her. Hee!" She giggles, taking my hand and shaking it vigorously.

"I'm…uh." I start, impressed by the strength of her fingers and the fast-talking speech, "pleased to meet you." She lets go.

"You must be the Arakelle dur Gahl. Pretty tattoo! Oh hello, Croup. We were introduced this morning, while you were up top. And oh my goodness, we're almost wearing the same clothes! Mine is embellished with pink laces. Did it myself to pimp this rogue leather. What is it with rogue leather? I think it's rather trendy. Gorgeous stripes, why stripes? I wonder what you look like with normal red hair. We'll talk about that later - come on!" She tugs me forward, I watch my footing, Croup follows and we head into the thick fog.

We reach the thinning edge of the fog. A stone block wall stops us. Croup bumps into a tall isolated boulder which seems to be waiting for an attendee. I wonder whoever guards the Ruins stand by this boulder to attend to visitors. A shaky thought comes to mind, _is the guard still alive?_

The grass surrounding us is uncut, growing like spears. I can tell we are at the gates of the Cornelius Ruins, our boots stand on the muddy path before it. Kendra taps the moss-covered wall three times. It shakes the ground beneath us and a large block of the wall starts to bury.

"This thing takes a while to open," says a voice from behind me. I turn to see another girl, tapping a foot impatiently. Her hair is as dark as Greg's and her sulking look reminds me of Greg's expression when he finds something unsatisfying. She holds a sword over her shoulder and wears intricately styled rogue leather with a sash that pockets two guns.

I gape. "_Latoya?_"

"I thought you wouldn't recognize me anymore!" She stabs her sword to the ground and we run to each other for a hug. "It's been a while!"

"No kidding?" I laugh, remembering the time at my mother's wedding with Latoya and Jude chattering on and on about the subject of boredom. "Where's Jude?"

"Jude?" She picks up her sword and we head to the open gates. "Busy, wrestling my mum. I mean, when dad left to train you it sort of made Jude jealous. So he left to go visit mum for a while and he's been there ever since. He sends us letters from time to time."

"He hates me for Greg's absence?"

"No, just scared of me."

"Scared of you?" I gasp, "What did you do this time?"

For as long as I can remember, Latoya is recognized for her marksmanship with guns, like Greg. But she is also known for under-age crime and thieving, almost like Greg. In the past years, Greg sent telegrams, permissions, money, licences and agreements to the authorities to prevent Latoya from getting a criminal record. He openly told me about all about her attempted robberies and successful pickpockets without the assistance of Jude, who guarded Coleen, his ex-wife.

"What do you think I did?" She deviously smiles. Greg must be proud of her dramatic crime sprees, _any_ rogue father would.

As we pass the stone gate the fog hangs dead behind us as if it is under a spell to never pass the gates of the castle. We enter the front yard of the Cornelius Ruins, the broken building looks worse than previous decades. Vines infested the walls, weeds grew tall on the garden bed, thorny shrubs and leafless trees scatter throughout the front yard. The atmosphere looks almost like a graveyard. I guess it just needs a few gravestones.

Kendra takes Croup's arm and ambles up to the front stony stair. "Quickly up the steps, Croupy," says Kendra. "We'll find our professors in no time!" It seems like every sentence ends with an exclamation mark for the happy-go-lucky female.

"She means well," Latoya says to me. "She loves pink and she's amazing at axes, spears, polearms and cherry bombs."

"That explains her hyper behaviour?"

"That must have been the moglin smores last night. Don't know if there's a cure."

"Huh," I look to Kendra and Croup at the top of the steps. Kendra is carrying a double bladed axe behind her, sheathed with red leather and glimmering with gold and dull pink. "Wait, what do you mean moglin smores last night? You guys camped out here waiting for us?"

"Yeah," Latoya replies. "Greg sent a message to Mobius, where we were staying. We were driven here by an escort yesterday and we camped in this ruined castle overnight. Imagine the experience."

I disguise my perplexed face. "So, you got attacked by gargoyles?"

"Nope," says the rogue, her face lighting up. "Simply emit a spell to throw them off and keep watch while you sleep. Easy sleep for me since Kendra was fed with loads amount of sugar."

There is an old tale about gargoyles roaming the Cornelius Ruins. They are the creatures of the night that does not feed on humans. They only attack trespassers to the death and once the gargoyle kills someone –or something not to its liking - the body is left to rot. Gargoyles are hard to kill and I have not encountered any before. From what I hear, their armour is considerably made of stone. There has not been a reported gargoyle attack in the past three years.

We reach the large wooden double door and it quaintly swings, slowly revealing my mother standing on a patterned carpet. The interior of the ruined castle looks well maintained, with polish marble floors and flags decorated along the high ceiling. Two floors of marble staircases freely hold fenceless decks where a person could fall off if not warned by standing vases of fresh roses. The place looks like a beautiful lobby of bright silver and white colours with green accents from the indoor plants. A large portrait of a group of colourful moglin creatures hang on the left wall. I notice sunlight streaming through the tall windows, nearly making a spotlight on the people at the center.

Mother walks us to Greg and a familiar elf standing at the center. "You met Lord Pierce the other night, Arakelle," she mutters to my ear as we approach the men, "please behave."

I nod to her. "I will." _I'm finally getting answers and I will listen attentively_, I add in my mind.

The mage casts me a measured look, her saint-like appearance covering a feeling that I cannot interpret.


	11. Chapter 11: In Ruins

**Chapter 11: In Ruins**

My mother holds out an arm, gesturing us to stop. Stepping forward, she raises her arms and recites an incantation under her breath.

"I thought you'd be jumping for joy at the sight of Greg," I whisper to Latoya, seeing Greg standing beside the tall elf, Lord Pierce.

Latoya shakes her head. "I did that early this morning. You should have seen it. I almost broke his spine." She laughs.

Before I can reply my jaw drops at the sight of the circle on the floor glowing.

Out of the cold marble floor, a golden, transparent circular disk elevates. It rises forming a large round top of a table. Slowly the core appears, holding the top disk firmly. The trunk is gleaming with fiery red and gold embers, like a phoenix carrying a large glass plate. Along the circumferences of the golden table, mother conjures a fiery chair of gold stems and gleaming read glass seats.

Lord Pierce is the first to pull out a chair and gracefully sit, his golden robe draped like a lily. Greg, dressed in bright brown and silver with a sword hilt peering over his shoulder, pulls a seat for my mother. Kendra, Latoya, Croup and I settle around the gleaming table. I put my hands on my lap, tense with nerves.

"Miss Arakelle dur Gahl," begins Lord Pierce, "just a couple of days ago you were informed of your bloodline. I assume you've handled it well throughout the flight?"

I do not know where to start. Should I be summarizing the events that happened with the kalestri and the drows? "I…yes." My voice stumbles, "I'm fine with it." I glance at Greg. He has a blank look on his face, telling me nothing. Maybe he does not want me to tell Lord Pierce of my dreams. Maybe Greg told him already.

"She isn't herself." My mother's voice takes over. "Sir Croup witnessed an extremely rare happening that endangered my daughter and the safety of the ship. I believe the ship is located."

I look at my mother, perplexed. Does my mother mean the strange purple glow of my pupils? I can feel Lord Pierce's gaze blazing at me. Greg does not move.

Croup does not hide his worry. "I told your mother what happened last night," he says, hesitantly. "I told her of your eyes...glowing."

I fish out the J-shaped dagger from my belt. _A Drakeaius dragger_, Greg calls it. "Did you tell her about this too?" I place the dagger on the glamorous table. Everyone freezes, like how the drows froze at the sight of that woman during my kalestri connection.

"Where did you get that?" says Lord Pierce, his face distorts.

"It flew across the ship during the elemental attack." I answer not looking at Greg or my mother.

"Cool," mutters Latoya beside me.

"Get it out of my sight," hisses Lord Pierce.

"How did it get to the ship?" Kendra eagerly leans forward for an answer.

I can feel my mother's eyes trying to find mine. "Kalestri connection," I say to the girl's widening eyes. "Actually it was teleported by -"

"Look at me, my child," mother demands. "I'm afraid the glow of your eyes is what gave away Sagra's location that night." Our eyes meet; both of us bear the same worried look. "We must leave to Greengaurd, Lord Pierce. All of us," she quickly adds. Looking away, I tie the dagger along my belt.

"The drows will be in pursuit," says the elf beside Greg. "However, my main concern is the two lords that your daughter became familiar with."

"We'll take care of them," mother snaps. "No need to take impulsive turns. Besides, I doubt the lords will act immediately on the news."

"True," continues the elf, "as for the sabre that you hold, Wiolina." His gaze sweeps across the table then rests on me. "I would like to finish that priority first, so that it can finally be used. She's powerless without it; you know that more than I."

"She's not _powerless_," says Latoya. "She was born with her own power from the beginning."

"That is not enough to stop the war, Latoya." This time Greg speaks. "We have our own half-bloods to deal with - "

"Other half-bloods?" I glance at Greg, dumbfounded; the spilled information slaps me clueless. "There are other elfin humans and human elves that you know of?"

Greg does not answer quickly. "There are a few that are our allies."

"Gregory Sabor has been notified that my kind found a group of underground half-blood elves," informs Lord Pierce, lines stressed on his forehead. "Hard to believe at first but yes, it's true. Most of these half bloods are simple civilians but some are warriors to protect their small population. They are called The Rebels of the West. They have been hiding for many years, afraid that if they were discovered by the wrong people, they would have been terminated. Fortunately, the gossip about your recent revelation has persuaded them to finally join us in our army. Our Order registered them and tested them; none of them contain drow blood at all." He takes a pause. "You remain to be the only half blood of a drow."

"Awe, so unique!" squeals Kendra. "Sorry. Continue."

Lord Pierce turns his gaze back to me. "Achilles' sabre, which he entitled to you alone, is a part of you when the day you were born. You and your sword have one purpose and mission to fulfill and throughout your entire life of training you will finally execute this."

"I'm cued?" I ask him, flatly. I try to stay calm. Something in me does not like this.

"Indeed," he replies, "you are to execute the Order's assignment once we make a move."

"When will that be?"

"Once Wiolina gives you the sword you will be able to have a great ability that no other mage or sorcerer has ever done throughout the five decades."

"Lord Pierce," interrupts my mother with a tone of superiority, "I will let my child proceed with your plans as soon as she is protected. Her eyes -"

"She does not need our whole protection anymore. She must learn to face them on her own," snaps the elf. "Wiolina, she needs the presence of any drow to cure her. If it weren't for your spells, she would never have had this problem right now and I am sorry for the blame."

My mother's lips tighten and she faces me with a sullen expression. Her mouth opens but no words come out.

Greg speaks for her, "Your mother's lullaby cursed you when you were little, Arakelle."

I look at him, feeling cold shivers slithering through my spine.

"You stopped her from cursing you more three years ago, however, she didn't fully surrender," he says. "Before you saw Lord Pierce that night at Trader's, Wiolina had finally removed the entire enchantment. But after the spell was removed something activated inside you, possibly some part of your drow blood. We did not expect that at all."

Kendra loudly whispers to Croup beside her. "Oh, he's going to tell her about drow babies!"

Greg continues, casting Kendra a look to be quiet. "A drow infant is born with enhanced glowing sight. Their pupils dilate and glow, like a nocturnal animal's eye sight would. This is due to the blood of chaos, plagued by their chaos lord Vath. The moment they're born drow blood is tainted and cursed. Their infants are then held by their drow parents to remove the sinful eyes. But because Achilles never held you and you've never seen a drow in your life, you never had this enhanced glow." The rogue crosses his arms on the table and observes my frozen expression.

Lord Pierce takes over. "After all those years of not seeing a drow, you have recently seen one which triggered the vein." Lord Pierce adds almost hissing with distaste at every word. "Now, apparently you've seen a drow and you have not told any of your parents."

I do not turn to him. Mother, Latoya and Croup keep their eyes on me, waiting for me to say something. All I say is: "Yes I have seen one." I remember the glove fingers along the back of my head, the red scarf covering half his face and the purple eyes. I recall the name that Bog showed me through the kalestri connection. Bitterly, I accurately pronounce, "His name is _Roan du Torqué._"

Lord Pierce is taken aback like a wind just rushed in and blew his face, "du Torqué? A name I am familiar with. Achilles has a friend with that name. I wonder if he's..." He shakes his head slightly.

My mother asks, instantly, "Did this drow do anything when you saw him?"

"I think he gave me a candle wax spell." I finger my neck, checking to see if there are any traces of wax. "Well, most of it came off during the kalestri connection, last night. He gave it to me saying it might protect me from someone, probably by any tracking lords." My fingers find nothing on the back of my neck. Somehow, relief and worry mixes in my mind.

"I see," Lord Pierce places his hands on the table, lacing them together. The rings along his fingers clatter on the glass. There are rubies and opals glued to the golden rings. One ring is distinctly plain silver matching his grey severe eyes. "Sabor has informed me that your kalestri connection manages to show you Lord Kurreon and Lady Locke."

"Lady Locke?" _So that was the creepy lady's name,_ I add silently.

"Lady Locke is almost like the second in command beside Lord Sagittarius," explains Latoya.

Lord Pierce inspects his fingers, his face reflecting on every glint of gold and rubies on his rings. "Your eyes have recently been glowing, I suspect?"

I slowly nod.

"Now that a drow-vein is pulsing in your system, I believe that your vulnerabilities are wide open to the Lady."

"You don't think -"

Lord Pierce's face is hard as stone. "She has reached you and is using your 'glowing eyes' - or to precisely call it - your drow-blood to locate and track you down. She has also taken parts of the kalestri connection from you so you would not be able to commune with that dog. The candle wax is quickly waning and there is no hope for that dog of yours to have survived this long."

My lungs are struggling for breath like I am suffocating under a gaseous cloud. I try to move but all of my limbs are broken. "Bog headed to Trader's." I swallow a lump caught in my throat. "He'll be safe there." My bones give in and I can barely carry my straight sitting position.

Greg and my mother exchange glances. She mouths a few words to him, telling him something. I feel my shoulder blades drag against the back of the fiery glass chair and I let myself lean, melting gravely.

Lord Pierce does not regard the situation serious. He wears an emotionless visage. "I believe it is time to board Sagra Leon."

Greg turns to me with his eyes half-closed. "Latoya – Kendra – Croup?" He glances at the two rogues and the ghoul sitting beside me. "Take Lord Pierce and Wiolina to the portal. I wish to speak to Arakelle." They hesitate. "Alone." Greg's superiority makes everyone bolt up and obey.

My mother does a counter spell to merge the fiery table to the floor again. Moments later, the phoenix table and the chairs disappear to the cold floor. Lord Pierce stands beside Croup waiting by the large arch door where we entered earlier. Kendra strides before them and swings the large door open. My mother rests a hand on my shoulder and walks away with Latoya. The door shuts and only Greg and I linger in the empty castle.

Greg starts his voice steady and firm. "Anything you wish to ask, Arakelle?"

"I'd like to know when I'm going to be used - oh and get killed as well?" I throw my bow to the polished marble, the clatter echoes and I hear hiccups and sobs coming from my mouth. I rapidly wipe my watering eyes with my palms. "Greg, what have I done? I'm leading an enemy right to us!"

Greg feels his shaven chin, fingering his goatee."You think I'm not concerned?" He puts a finger to his mouth, like he is stopping himself from saying something.

"What else are they keeping from me? I have all the right of the world to know! If I'm going to participate in this god forsaken war can I at least know what else is out there? And who I'm going to face?" I feel the urge to strike something. I look at a nearby vase and head for it but Greg stops me with an answer.

"We have a plan," he says, dully.

I freeze in my tracks. "Everyone has a plan. I _had_ a plan for my own future but apparently," I turn to face him. My teeth clench as I keep my tone low. "Ever since Pierce-the-golden-elf came, my own plans no longer matter. It is what everyone wants now. If I don't do it all else fails, right?"

"You can still grow up to be the person you want to be," says Greg uncertainly. "There are just limitations now. For the good of everyone, Arakelle, don't be so selfish," he adds, strongly.

I quell the anger inside me. Before the 'selfish' topic goes any farther, I turn and say, "Greg, I want to know who the lords of the east are. I want to know which country is on whose side. I want to know more about the drows and the past war with Lady Okara and what makes this sabre of mine so special and why - "

"There is a reason why Lord Pierce and the Secret Order keep things from you." Greg snaps."The Secret Order has its ways and I have a feeling that they must keep things from you or else you...I am not allowed to say it." He falters, brushing a hand along the back of his neck. At that moment, he looks terribly tired and worn.

"You - you're - Greg I know you're with the Secret Order," I stutter, miserably. "Did you take an oath to swear to abide by their laws? Keep secrets from me?"

He does not reply. He picks up my bow and holds it out to me; I reluctantly walk up and take it from him. He ushers me to the door and I follow him out of the castle ruins. "I cannot say more than what I have said - or try to say - without angering the Order," he says. "You ask so many questions and I do not blame you for...you know."

I notice the fog has lifted and my eyes squint under the bright noon sun. "I guess we're under surveillance." I rub my eyes, drying them up.

"Yes. Every move a member takes is monitored closely by an Ordered Associate. I'm under restrictions by your mother. Wherever she goes, the Order is listening."

"So, let me guess. My mother and almost everyone I know are under this code of secrets?"

Greg explains as we enter the front courtyard. "It is called the Order's Oath. And yes, Wiolina, Lord Pierce and Elias and his crew are under the terms of secrecy. They must never tell you any classified information, nor the reason why they can't. So you are only given the limited information we allow you to have. I believe I told you too much already." We stop at the stone gates.

"That is not fair, Greg! I understand how I'm assigned to fulfill something and I will do anything to do it for the sake of the cursed war!" I protest, recalling my vow after my mother's confessions the other night. "But how does the Secret Order expect me to do what they want if they aren't telling me anything, besides my father and - " Instantly, I realize something. My voice abruptly shakes to a mutter. "Greg, does the Order punish you if you tell? Like if they find you telling..."

He breathes in deeply and answers, "Yes." One word is all he said and all it takes to tell you everything you need to know. Greg is one of those people who can slap someone or slay a dragon with just a one word reply.

"This is really insane - no wait - it is sane, I'm just the one going insane!" Frustrated, I increase the volume of my words, "Maybe that's what the Order wants, not a box of chocolates, but an insane girl thrusting her sword everywhere at everyone because she doesn't know who the target is!"

Greg smiles, but he doesn't say anything. I stop my rant to chill the flames in my heart. "I am not so sure who to trust and who to listen to anymore," I say.

Pass the open wall are rolling hills of tall grass. I can see from a distance, the large chain anchor hanging onto the ship near the portal platform. I stride towards it. Greg stops me once again, this time he takes my arm. Vainly I try to shake off his grip.

Greg looks at me. His face filled with so much severity, I hold back welling tears at the sight of him like this. Like my mother, he is starting to look like a stranger. "I will only tell you this," Greg lowers his voice. "Half of you can tell you everything." He winks and beams. "Right now, trust only the people you know you can trust. Listen to the people that have listened."

I blink up at him. _Half of me can tell me everything? _My mind scrambles for answers, but nothing lights up.

Greg and I reach the portal platform and I feel cold to the bone as we appear on the deck of Sagra Leon. My eyes linger at Greg for a moment. Hollow and emotionless he looks. I swear Lord Pierce's face has been plastered on my step father.

Everyone knows what is going on. And yet, I barely have a clear grasp on what I am assigned to do. My mother hasn't told me everything and now Greg isn't telling me everything either. They are not allowed to unless the Order permits them.

I watch my step father greet Elias who swings the door open for Greg to enter the dining room. Elias reluctantly disappears inside. The main deck is empty, only the sounds of gears and entrées are heard from the dining room. I remain where I stand with a dreadful notion curdling within me. The Order is making me feel extremely alone.


	12. Chapter 12: The Mother of All Things

**Chapter 12: The Mother of All Things**

The meeting raises more questions in my head. Last night, I was controlled by a possible eastern lord and I only have one clue to who it was. The ringing of a piercing laugh strikes familiar to Lady Locke's giggles from my kalestri connection. I bet they are planning an ambush right now. Under the circumstances of trust and secrecy, I wonder if I can still trust Greg with this information. Predictably, his answers are going to be kept away from me since he is within the Order.

The midday sun is blazing above the ship and the clouds are clustered like tufts of white fluffy cotton candy. Instead of joining the crew for lunch I decide to stay on the deck and sit by my bag of weapons. I take out my whip and lashed it a few times to exercise my wrist.

The ship sways unsteadily for a moment. I tie the whip across my belt and explore the forecastle deck. From the corner of my eye something stirs. Could it be that an animal has boarded Sagra? I load my bow and point it to the direction of the stirring on the stern.

The creature is large and it's lying by the rudder wheel, possibly sleeping. Stealthily, I make my way across the deck, hiding behind the control room then bounding to the closed door of the stern. I crawl to the stair opposite to where the creature lies and I start to wonder if anyone even knows of its presence.

The crew is in the dining room and through the floor I can hear conversations and clattering of dishes. The staircase is not a very good spot to hide from whatever is on the wheel. I peer over the stair to find the creature, my eyes dart from the beast's scaly form to the golden carriage beside it.

The roof of the carriage has a hard metal handle where the chains are linked. Vehicles pulled by beasts like this one are called flying carriers. A carrier? For who? The large animal is no threat, just a driver waiting for its passenger. I put the arrow back in the quiver and hop on the stern, alerting the beast.

The scaly being perks up and its reptilian eyes catches mine. Its front arms pull it up to a standing position and I can see the shackles and chains bloodying its wrists. The emerald dragon-like beast wears an armoured battle plate with no helm or shield. I see a belt around its waist carrying a scabbard with no sword hilt. The animal is unarmed but still dangerous with the thick armoured tail, large dragon feet, scaly and toothy jaws and protruding horns on its head. I notice a logo on the shoulder plate of the emerald being; it is the seal of the Draconian.

I take a step forward, the draconian instantly curls into a ball and slinks back, chains rattling as it beckons. For a large dragon, this one in particular is afraid of something. He must have been abused by the looks of those shackles. I cringe at the sight of the peeled green scales around the wrists of the warrior.

"Who did this to you?" I whisper, subconsciously taking out a healing elixir from my pockets.

The draconian stare at me. _Its large jaws can easily engulf my entire head_, I think. I carefully crouch and inch closer to him, showing him the elixir. He swipes his horned tail near my direction - a warning. He shows his white teeth and they gleam across his frightened green face.

"I can heal you," I tell him. I toss my bow to the side and hold out my free hand, a gesture of harmlessness. "May I look at your wrist, please?"

The warrior unfolds his wings, looking even larger than I expected. The ship sways as the draconian towers over me. His wings cast a fearful shadow over me. I do not look away from our eye contact, but we can both see the fear in our eyes. The draconian folds his wings again and blinks at me. "Hephaestus," he says in a deep dragon-like voice, barely moving his mouth.

_He told me his name_, I think it's my turn. "Arakelle."

His dragon head nods and I feel the sudden scaly claws along my free hand. I almost jump with the sudden surprise, he's accepting my offer but I was too busy staring. I take off the cap of the potion and gently poured the liquid on the peeling scales. The scabs sizzle with blood and medicine and the warrior's entire body rumbles with pain, wings shivering and arms tensing.

"The medicine will help it heal faster," I say. I close my palms around the bloody wrists, reciting a verse from different incantations of healing. The wrists glow within the shackles. I concentrate even harder to soothe the entire arm. Various tongues pour from my mouth until the glow travelled from the dragon's arms to his shoulders. He exhales with relief and his muscles go fluid, relaxing from the spell. I withdraw from the casting and I feel the dragon's arms catch me. Tufts of hair stick to my forehead from the sweat; I brush them off and look up at the dragon. "There, good as new." I take a step back as he examines his wrists.

Although the shackles are hiding the result, the surrounding peeled scales are gone and new dark green ones replaced them. Hephaestus shakes his entire body and feels new energy inside him; I can tell by the way he's tensing his muscles like he's preparing for battle.

"I am really grateful, Arakelle," he looks down at me with the yellow lizard-like eyes. He looks up at the sky with a look of yearning. "My master is Lady Owen. She pays me with great food and respect."

"Respect?" I gape, absurd at the word. "Being chained is not respectable!"

"I question that myself," he says, sitting down with his winged-back to the golden carriage. "I have no choice. I am a Captured One. The captured must obey the Order."

"Who made those rules?" I ask.

"You're not allowed to know," says a voice behind me.

I turn to see the young captain leaning by the rail. Elias is wearing his black boots and a blue formal trench coat with white collar and loose sleeves, making him look like a pirate with double blades behind his back. For once he is not wearing his brown leather gloves but he still bears his trademark cross belt and goggles. A navy blue sash across his waist carries a gold handle of a revolver, something I have not seen before. Goggles pulled back, his icy blue eyes narrow to Hephaestus. The draconian turns away and sulks to the other end of the carriage.

"What are you doing here?" I put myself between him and Hephaestus. "Aren't you supposed to be entertaining your new guests downstairs?" I remember Greg disappearing into the dinning room and before him, Kendra and Latoya. I bet they went googly-eyed over the sight of Elias during their lunch time.

"I'm here to get away from a certain woman," he replies.

I think of names off the top of my head. "I can guess who that is."

"Huh. I see you've met the carrier," continues Elias. "They arrived here while you were at the Ruins."

Ignoring him, I pick up my bow and take the empty bottle of elixir to my bag of weapons on the main deck. I reach my bag and sling it over my shoulder. As I return to the draconian's side Elias stops me with a blade resting on my shoulder.

"You're not allowed to free him," he grins, his face glittering with deviousness. "You've got to go through me first."

"What are you going to do, slice me with this toothpick?" Not taking my eyes off of the captain's, I brush his blade away and drop my bag beside Hephaestus.

"I can try." Elias takes his sword and gestures me to fight him. I am prepared with a whip, two knives, a drow dagger and a broad sword, in any case of fun, I'll use my spells.

My hand lashes the whip forward to the captain's direction, he dodges the crackle entirely but the lasso is quicker, the end of the whip wraps around Elias's blade. I pause with satisfaction, ready to disarm him. Two of his hands tighten along the hilt of the captured sword and he reels back, sending me forward. I lose my balance and hit the floor. I can feel the tension he has on my whip and I let go. Unarmed, I quickly recover as Elias's sword hits the floor an inch from my face. "Croup's got to swab the deck again," he says. Scrambling on the floor, I intercept his blow to my head using two knives. I roll over, twisting my knives to handle his sword. His blade plunges into the wooden floor.

He tugs on it, as I get up. "Don't worry, I got another one."

I intercept the swing of his left-hand blade. "Are you really trying to kill me?" He sends a boot to my unguarded side. Barely dodging it, I slice the air to his direction.

"Not really," he replies, single-handedly blocking my knives. "I _am_ trying to kill you, just not _really_." He laughs as he steps away from my tackle.

Hephaestus watches us, intrigued by our fluid movements. At every lunge I give, Elias manages a controlled dodge and at every effortless assault he gives, I breathlessly intercept. It is almost choreographed but unfairly making the young captain look so relaxed.

I let my anger blind me for what the captain is doing the whole time. His right hand works his way around the sword hilt of his other blade. He yanks out his sword and smites my knives off my sweaty grip. They fly across the ship and bounce off the railing never to be seen again.

I scream. "Idiot! That was from Greg!"

For a moment, his eyes blink pitifully at me. I calculate his advantage; my spells are my last resort and I certainly do not want to use my broad sword over his exquisite blades. _It looks so embarrassing to wave around_, I think.

"Would you like to take a break?" he says uncertainly, still in a fighting stance with his long swords in both hands.

"Not really." I send the drow dagger flying to him. He dodges it as expected but the distraction worked. I disregard his cry, seeing my whip lying on the floor, I slide to grab it. I lash it to his legs and it wraps around his ankles. I tug and Elias falls to the floor, dropping his swords. Alert, I notice a drop of blood trickling his face. I scramble up to him to check if he's hurt.

His hands finger his cheek. "Gah!" There is a small cut along his face that starts to drip with blood. It looks so small like a paper cut but it must be deep enough to bleed.

I run to my bag near Hephaestus who doesn't say anything. I take out another elixir and run back to Elias's side. "I didn't know the -"

"You're dagger won the match," he laughs, as I gently pour a drop of healing liquid on his cheek. "This isn't over yet, Arakelle. I still have a gun and you still have your magic."

The liquid sizzles but then sinks into his skin, leaving no trace of the small cut. But the blood along his face is still visible. He feels his cheek and rips off his white sleeve and damps the cloth along his face. I sit back relieved but also stunned by what Elias has said. "You stopped calling me nicknames?" I ask him.

He grunts, seemingly absurd by the question. He takes his blades and cuts off the whip wrapped along his legs. I scream. "Those were from Raul you inconsiderate bas-"

"Get over it." He gets up and sheathes his blades. He stretches his limbs and climbs down to the main deck like nothing interesting happened.

A volcano erupts in my head. _First I lose Greg's long knives, _I say to myself,_ now Raul's whip is trimmed to uselessness?_ He's not getting away with this. I devilishly think of ways to avenge my broken weapons. I spy Elias plucking the drow dagger from the mainmast where it stuck after my throw. _Like a lady_, I think. I gracefully get up and climb down the stern to stand by his side. I note Hephaestus watching.

"Elias," I say, gently resting a hand on his shoulder.

He almost flinches back at the tone of my voice. He looks at me like I have done the strangest thing in the world then holds out the drow dagger.

I take it with a charming smile. "Thank you, Captain," I say, sweetly. I keep a hand to his shoulder and the dagger on my right. "So what do you say we do that again?" I lower my voice to an alluring whisper.

He blinks. "What's the catch?" he says with awareness.

"I really want to free the draconian, Captain." My hand fixes his collar and unexpectedly I feel heat burning my cheeks.

His hand brushes the scar along my face. Leaning closer, he levels his eyes to mine. I stare straight at the blue hues of his pupils, hypnotized. My arms swing over his shoulders. Elias's muscles relax and I feel his hand touch my back. He pulls me in and I can feel his gentle breathing. His face is an inch from mine and our eyes lock together in a hypnotic stare. Somehow I resist the urge to pull away as I look into the depths of his ice blue eyes. Snapping back to reality, I adhere to my scheme. "Smooth move, Captain."

My other hand unsheathes one of his blades and I swiftly step back letting go of him like a fly zapped from an electric shock. _Weird_, I say to myself, _I don't want to start caring for this guy. What a stupid plan_. I start walking back to the stern where the draconian sits, carrying a drow dagger on one hand and Elias's sword on the other.

Elias doesn't move from his spot but I can feel his suspicious gaze following my every step. "The chains are for his service to the Owen family," he calls to me. "You cannot unshackle him without their permission."

_You mean permission by the Order?_ I think a weapon from the enemy might unravel the magic entwined in these chains. I hold up the drow dagger and set the chain down for a strike. Hephaestus watches reproachfully with his body tucked in a sleeping position. I strike the chain with all my strength but I jolt back from a wave of repelling energy. I gasp for breath, blinking up at the sky, my back to the floor and my chest heaving for air. Dizzy, I get up to try Elias's sword. I raise my arms and strike hard. The draconian howls as a ringing shriek erupts from the broken chains. Shattering bits of chains fly everywhere, my eyes close and my entire body curls to the floor. I cover my head with my hands as metal and blade exploded. Sparks energized and dissolved, within seconds the place is quiet again.

I scuttle to Hephaestus. The warrior holds out his free wrists and I could not resist an embrace. "How did you know child?" his deep voice shaking with joy. "The Order is the only one able to liberate me."

"They did liberate you." I hold out the hilt of Elias's blade. "It was a lucky guess. I didn't think it would work. Elias is part of the Order and so is his blade." The blade is gone and only the hilt remains gleaming of gold.

"The Order did not liberate you of your service Heap," says a harsh voice. The woman climbs onto the stern wearing a stunning royal Greenguard dress. Her dark hair is tied to a braided bun underneath a translucent bonnet and her face is sharp and stern. Narrow slits of lined eyes slice to mine. Hers are blue and colder than Elias's. Following her is Buzzard the dwarf. He is struggling to hold a flowery umbrella above the woman's head.

I hear familiar voices on the main deck, peering over I see Lord Pierce, Greg, my mother, Croup and Elias gathering. I look back at Hephaestus who slinks even lower by the carriage.

"You're free now," I whisper to him.

"Dur Gahl!" yells the woman. Her heels stomp the floor angrily."If you even have the slightest respect for me, please courteously step aside."

I do not reply, instead I stand up picking up the dagger and hilt. I have the temptation to slap her. But then I realize that she must be Elias's mother. _Lady Owen._

"Now pick up the pace, Heap," she demands, "I wish to leave soon and need I remind you that you're carrying two more passengers later on."

The draconian stumbles and then flies upward. For a second I thought he was going to escape and freely fly over the skies, to my disappointment he lands on the roof of the carriage and his unshackled hands hold the handle ready to take off.

"But you're free!" I run up to the carriage. It sways unsteadily, weighing lightly against my push. "You can fly off for good Hephaestus! Tell every dragon what they have done to you!"

"How dare you," says Lady Owen, "speaking about those reptiles without any knowledge of them at all."

I turn to face her. I am clearly not good at first impressions, especially in front of royalty. "Forgive me, your highness."

She walks up and inspects me, Buzzard grumbling as he follows the woman. Lady Owen's eyes are like lasers scanning every character of the document. I begin to fidget uneasily. Greg and Elias make their way up to us. They halt near by letting Lady Owen dominate the scene.

The woman raises her nose. "She's a fine lady. Unfortunately, we have to arrange etiquette classes for her at Greenguard. She is clearly unstable but I shall do my best to fix her _dysfunctional_ traits. I question myself why she did not inherit her mother's grace." Her cold gaze rests on me. "Dur Gahl, a pleasure to meet you finally. Maybe at the wrong time but let us reintroduce ourselves right now. Come have a seat and let us talk." She comfortably takes a seat along the platform of the back railing, with Buzzard scuffling behind to keep up.

I glance at Greg, but his expression is unrecognizable. My eyes dart to Elias's and he looks like he's fuming at the sight of his golden hilt on my hand, bladeless after the ordeal. _Inside, he's picturing me hanged with a noose,_ I think. Putting the dagger and the hilt away, I scurry over to Lady Owen's side.

"I never thought Elias would share his things," she says, as I clumsily take a seat beside her.

"I didn't share, my Lady," says the young captain. "She just stole it from me."

"And you let her," snaps Lady Owen.

Elias turns away and order's Croup to get the sneevils and patrol below. The ghoul skips away with Sneezes and Shocky to the portal. Elias takes the wheel with his back turned to us. Greg disappears without a word and I hear him speaking with Lord Pierce. I can tell Kendra and Latoya are with them conversing.

"It is rude to eavesdrop, young lady," says the strict woman beside me. Lady Owen takes a fan from her purse and starts fanning herself. Buzzard grumbles beside her, still holding up the umbrella to provide her shade.

"I apologize," I say to her, not stopping myself to think. "But sometimes, when you are clueless to what is going on and you have an important deed to fulfill, you can't help but eavesdrop in people's conversations just so you don't get the wrong instructions." I could not resist a smirk to her direction.

Lady Owen closes her eyes like a swear word just slapped her across the face. "What manners you have. Do you know who I am?"

I do not answer. _Of course I know_, I say silently, _you're the mother of all things lady-like under the shelter of a golden roof. _

"I am Lady Owen, the royal baroness of the Secret Order. I do not tolerate obnoxious people, Arakelle. I know you are frustrated with the secrecy however, I believe that anyone strong and smart can still combat many things. The rules and restrictions do not limit them - please hold the umbrella a little higher, dwarf."

Buzzard raises the umbrella a few inches up, straining his tired arms. "Sorry, my Lady."

I look at Lady Owen's straight posture then to the dwarf struggling to keep the shade up for the woman's convenience. "Here." I hold out my hand to Buzzard. Lady Owen's eyes widen to dinner plates as my arm interrupts her fanning. "Buzzard, let me hold the umbrella," I say gently. The dwarf reluctantly gives it to me.

"Don't do that, young child," cries the lady, "his hands are filthy and we are meant to be served by the dwarves! They owe us so much!"

I bite back. "I don't know about their _debts._ I only know a thing or two about generosity and respect."

"Don't talk to me about respect and generosity. Who do you think you're talking to?" The woman's ruffled collar seems to puff out every word. She tones down her voice, "Young lady, have some grace. We humans are above these creatures. You meet them in battle during your training exercises and I do not see any problem with having one hold an umbrella for me."

I hold up the flowery umbrella for her, bearing a look of contentment which annoyed her even more. Her lips purse to a thin red line and she withdraws from the subject. Her attention turns to the sailing captain.

"I see," she says, fanning herself, "you've met my son, Elias Crowe."

"Yes," I grumble. Buzzard bows, realizing where the conversation is going, he leaves.

"He is a gentleman, following his father's footsteps."

"He destroyed my weapons," I tell her.

She disregards my accusation. "He is a great captain serving the Order."

_He is also deceiving me, just like everyone else in the Order_, I add silently.

"I want you to befriend him," she eagerly states, "He's a wonderful gentleman and I am sure he likes you."

I think that's rather surprising.

"I believe it is almost time for my departure." Lady Owen gathers herself up. "I was informed of your kalestri connection during lunch. Sir Sabor and Lord Pierce will be monitoring Lady Locke's activities. Fortunately for you, drows have not given chase. I really wish to pluck the drow veins off your system, Arakelle. It is too dangerous to have a drow track you through that, especially Lady Locke for that matter."

She straightens her layered dress. "Our chat shall continue at a later date. For now, stay hidden."

"Stay hidden?" I do not mind her leaving, but what does she mean by that?

"Once you reach Greenguard and meet with the lord of the Order, we will further discuss the terms of your arranged marriage." _Arranged marriage?_ I repeat the blistering words in my thundering head.

Elias leaves his wheel, overhearing the conversation over his shoulder, he says, "_Marriage_?"

I can feel my cheeks reddening. Dropping the umbrella, I get up stiffly for answers. "I'm not doing anything else that I have no -"

"I said we will further discuss this at Greenguard," says Lady Owen, glancing at Elias and I. She picks up her umbrella, hesitantly. "Right now, there are other things to deal with."

"You have other things to deal with?" The captain is annoyed at the thought. "My lady, can't we -"

"At Greenguard," repeats the strict woman.

"Sorry," I argue, "but I must have a say in this-"

"Will further discuss this at Greenguard!" she underlines the words with a rising anger. "You know your obligations, Crowe. I will not hear another word. Besides, I wasn't talking about _your_ marriage, young Captain." She smiles at both of us, cold eyes glinting with a devilish sparkle. She is really entertained by my dread.

_ Does Greg know about this, too?_ I feel my shoulders tense and my eyes brimming with warm tears. I recall vowing to do whatever it takes to end this war, but if this arranged marriage she speaks of is not part of the plan I will reject it in a heartbeat.

Lady Owen paces down to the main deck. I remain standing with closed palms. My brain starts to weave questions to whatever Lady Owen said. First she implied to stay hidden, meaning there is a possibility that I might be left in the dust, alone. _And what did she mean when she said that the dwarves owe us so much?_ I know very little of the Cold War and the dwarves.

"You jumped at the thought of an arranged marriage," says Elias. I almost forgot about him standing close by.

"Give me names of the girls who never bolted at the thought of an arranged marriage," I say, shuddering to the bone thinking about a forty year old groom and an eighteen year old bride.

"Believe me," he replies, "I do not know anything about the arranged marriage part. But I do know this: The Order is willing to do anything for you, as long as it suits them."

Before I can say anything, Greg calls my name. He is standing beside my mother with a sullen look on his face. I run to him like a lamb called to her shepherd. The man embraces me and for a moment I thought we were going to train and have archery lessons all over again. But by the grim looks of Latoya and Kendra huddled behind him, training session has been cancelled.

"I'm sorry, Arakelle," Greg pulls me away. "We have a few things to attend to. I'm afraid we can not have that training session I planned for today."

I feel a tear trickling my cheek. "I did a little training by myself, anyways."

"Maybe Latoya can teach you a few tricks with a gun."

I look up to his grey eyes; within the grey pupils are small specks of green and hazel. "I'll have to handle her first," I say. A faint smile appears across his face, making my vision blur with tears. "Greg…" Stopping myself to hold back tears, I drop my gaze to the floor, understanding how he is not able to tell me anything under the Order.

"We'll see each other at Greenguard, Arakelle…" My step father looks away, letting his words dissolve in the air. He brushes my right cheek where the so-called scar is and we stand there staring at each other. Finally getting up he sighs and turns to leave. He rests a hand on Latoya's shoulder and joins Lord Pierce and Lady Owen standing at the front of the ship. Latoya does not turn her blank gaze to her father.

My mother approaches and I almost fall to my knees crying at the sight of her unfamiliar face. She is wearing a new dress of gold lining and an unusual dark green hood matching her eyes. Her appearance displays a woman I have never met before, but beneath the visage is the mother I grew up with.

My body is swallowed in her arms. "The sword will come to you once it is finished. The spell is almost…done." She speaks with hesitation and I begin to wonder what the problem is.

"What other ingredients does this thing need?" I ask her, as she raises my chin.

"My dearest, the sword simply needs you. I am just preparing it." She kisses my forehead and releases me. She flutters to Greg's arm and pulls her hood over her blood red hair. Lord Pierce's hood is also pulled over his face to conceal the serious gaze that I bet is burning my stare.

"Your passengers await, Heap," commands Lady Owen. Her words seem to whip the draconian. From the main deck I can see Hephaestus's wings burst to flight. His fore limbs carry the gold carriage like it weighed less than a pebble. He gently lands the wagon before Lady Owen on the forecastle. The draconian lands on the roof of the wagon, claws holding the handle, he waits for more orders.

Lady Owen steps inside without a farewell glance. My mother glances back at me. "Be careful with your spell casting," she says softly, almost too faded to hear. "And remember what you promised me." She turns away from me and disappears into the carrier.

Greg goes inside only stopping for a wave to us, his mouth not uttering a single word of farewell. I somehow predicted my mother's leave but certainly not Greg's. Why does he have to leave me behind? The answer I come up with is because of my mother and probably Lord Pierce's demands. Lord Pierce remains where he stands, seemingly waiting for something.

Suddenly, a scroll appears from the mouth of the carriage and he takes it without a turn of his head. He holds it out to me. The scroll is tied with a gold and purple ribbon and they usually call these types Mission Scrolls. _He's offering me a mission?_ I refuse.

"First, I want to know why you are leaving," I say, crossing my arms. "Then I want to know where you are taking my parents and -"

"Oh for crying out loud," exclaims Latoya. The girl snatches the scroll from Lord Pierce. "We'll take it. Whatever this is…" Without opening the parchment, Latoya strides to the nearest railing and looks out to the Ruins below.

Elias finally shows himself. He climbs down from the poop deck and courtly stands before Lord Pierce. "I'd give this ship at least a couple of weeks, my Lord. And yes, I will make sure we reach Greenguard in time. Oh, and simply send us a postcard once you get there."

Lord Pierce raises his head. "The wind is telling us to separate, now," says the elf seemingly to the skies. He nods to Elias. "Remember to reach your destination," he glances at me, then suspiciously at Kendra and Latoya, "by whatever means necessary." He turns to climb into the carriage, adding a few more words over his shoulder, "Do not fail me Crowe." The door shuts behind him. Elias steps back. He puts out an arm in front of me, to prevent me from running after the rising wagon.

I scowl at him. "I can handle myself."

He looks at me like I have said the cheesiest thing. "But can I trust you to not jump overboard?"

I push his arm away and watch the draconian beat his wings, lifting his load higher.

The carrier lifts off, carried by Hephaestus's muscle and wings. His dragon eyes glance at me one more time before he turns to fly out of range. Through the golden carrier window I hope to catch a glimpse of Greg or my mother, but all I see is Lady Owen's conspicuous face. She obscures the window view with her white flowery umbrella and the carrier disappears into the clouds.

* * *

**_Author's Notes:_**

_This was my first fanfic and it is still not done. It's got battles and plenty more adventures in store. But I just need your critique at this point to keep going. I don't know what to change or improve on without feedback. _

_Don't be shy! ^_^_


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